Roomies

Sitting in the back bench seat of Spike’s old black car, Dawn remained silent, her thoughts a maelstrom of chaos in her head. She wasn’t a Summers, her mom wasn’t really her mom. It explained so much, yet raised more questions that she ever hoped to be able to answer. Her whole life had been stripped out from under her and she wasn’t sure what she was left with. Her life wasn’t really a lie, it just wasn’t the truth. She felt almost numb as she watched the world speed by.

Watching Spike drive, Buffy appreciated his understanding of the situation. He wasn’t pushing her to talk, or to share. He was stroking her thumb with his spare hand, his other hand gripping the wheel tightly as they sped along.
Knowing it wouldn’t be long until his curiosity got the better of him and he started asking questions, she kept quiet, thoughts swirling round as she tried to think what she would say to her father when she saw him. Her heart filling with dread when she spied a road sign indicating LA was the next exit. She couldn’t imagine how Dawn was feeling, the fact that he father wasn’t her father and wanted nothing to do with her was worse than hearing that he thought of you as a money maker.
Stealing a glance behind her, Buffy watched as Dawn muttered under her breath, her eyes screwed shut in concentration. Slumping back into the seat, Buffy closed her eyes in resignation. This was happening and there was nothing she could do to get out of it.

“And we’re here ladies.” Spike called softly as he pulled up in front of the biggest house he had ever seen. It seemed to stretch out before him forever, its tacky whitewashed exterior reflecting the flamboyantly decorated front door and imitation stained glass windows that stuck out like a sore thumb against the plain exterior and white gravel that lined the driveway.
This was going to be one hell of an experience.

Snorting at the stained glass image of her father’s latest bimbo etched rather elaborately into the front doors, Buffy raised her fist and hammered on the glass, hoping it would shatter under the pressure.
Sadly, the door swung open before her, revealing a middle aged lady, her hair scraped back into a tight bun and adorned in an old fashioned, almost traditional black and white uniform. Scowling at the visitors, the maid was shooing them away when Hank happened to walk by the hallway.
Standing behind the maid he ordered her back to the kitchens, closing the door behind him and stepping out onto the front step to talk to his visitors.
“Yes?” His air of indifference was disconcerting to Buffy to say the least. She had always viewed her father as a charming man; his warmth had always shone through and overpowered his less charming attributes, now Buffy saw it for what it was. A mask.

“Daddy?” She kept her voice young and innocent, playing on him. He had to have a heart somewhere under the cold veneer he put on show. Obviously not she assumed, as he ignored her plea.
“Dad?” Was the first word out of Dawn’s mouth since she had left Sunnydale. She stepped up behind her big sister in a show of solidarity. “We need to talk.”
“About?” Hank gazed at his watch, trying to get his point across. He was going to be late for his meeting which meant he would probably be late for lunch with Cerise.
“About this.” Buffy continued the conversation, thrusting the letter under his nose. Marvelling at the sudden change in his demeanour, Buffy pushed ahead, stepping up to find that at long last she was taller than her father. Turning to see Spike leaning up the side of his car, she smiled. At least one man would always be there for her.
“That wasn’t meant for your eyes.” Hank started, knowing that his precious daughters probably hated him. He didn’t want them to hate him; he just didn’t see why he had to pay so much in child support when Joyce was earning plenty at her gallery. “I’m sorry girls; I never meant to hurt either of you.” He smiled, turning the charm on full power, “Can we have lunch?”
Agreeing reluctantly, Dawn assured Buffy she was fine, trying not to giggle when their dad tried to pay the ‘taxi driver’.
“Daddy, this is William.” Buffy was trying to say as Dawn bent double, laughing aloud as Spike tried to give her dad the money back, insisting he wasn’t a driver. “You remember William?” Buffy persisted, “William Giles?” Seeing the she wasn’t going to get anyway by trying to remind him she opted for another tactic, “This is my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Hank stopped trying to pay Spike and stepped back to size him up. “What about the other one? The meathead?”
Snorting at the apt description of Riley, Spike stuck out his hand, introducing himself. He may not like the wanker, but it was probably best to start off on the right foot.
Shaking it firmly, Hank was surprised by the strength the kid possessed. He looked small and thin compared to the meathead that had visited him before. He was a better size match for Buffy by the looks of it and she seemed genuinely happy walking next to him as they made their way across the sweeping circular driveway to his waiting car.
The ride into the centre of the city seemed to fly by as all occupants kept silent, engaged in their own thoughts. Spike sat between the two girls in the back, Dawn leaning on one arm while the other was wrapped around Buffy, his thumb stroking the back of her hand softly. He knew she wasn’t dumb and wouldn’t be put off by her father’s charisma. She came to sort things out and that’s what she would do.
And he would be there for her every step of the way.
Feeling the car stop, Dawn sat up straight. It was so easy for her to assume her much used ‘Valley brat’ routine, sitting until someone opened the door for her. Maybe she was born a Valley girl she mused. She could have been anything, anyone. Now she was lost, drowning in her thoughts, determined not to ask for help. She wasn’t anything to do with them. They weren’t her parents. They had adopted her and let her live a lie without any indication otherwise. She was angry with them and it felt good.
Scowling at the guy who had opened her door for her she raised her head defiantly, following Buffy and Spike into the restaurant.

Seating Dawn, Hank watched in amusement as William seated Buffy, pushing her chair in and taking the seat next to her, always between the two girls. Ignoring the idle chit chat, he excused himself to use his phone, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of the business meeting as well as lunch with Cerise.

Watching her father as he walked away, smiling and flirting with the waitresses, Buffy couldn’t help but smile herself. Looking back on how hurt she had been when her father had left her mom she couldn’t help but wince at how naïve she was. It was a miracle that the marriage had lasted so long in the first place. Her father was a serial dater and her mother was a normal, down to earth home-maker. Even if Faith and her mom hadn’t been involved, it would never have worked in the long run. It may have taken her almost a decade to work that out, but she was finally at peace with them for ruining her delusions of a happy home. Now she just needed to sort out every other issue she had with them.

Looking back up to see him returning she blanched, frantically trying to think of someway to hide. It was too late, her father had returned,
“Hey look who I found.” He called jovially, shoving a tall, dark haired man in front of him. Buffy frowned, taking Spike’s hand and holding it on top of the table, trying to force a smile on her face,
“Hi Angel.”