Author: Kendra A. (kendraangelusslayer@yahoo.com) [http://www.iceblur.dot.nu]

Rating: PG

Summary: Willow and Spike get caught in the rain. Blatant fluff.

Disclaimer: All “Buffy: the Vampire Slayer” and/or “Angel” characters aren’t mine. They’re Joss’, Marti’s, David’s, et cetera. Don’t sue, as I don’t even own a working computer at the moment. All songs belong to the eminent Dave Matthews Band, whose boots I would gladly lick. =) Well, maybe not really, but they *rock*. And, um, obviously “The Wizard of Oz” doesn’t belong to me.

Distribution: The usual—UCSL, Fanfiction.Net, Bite Me… Please?, STTEOT, Near Her Always, Temptation Embraced, all my lists. And, uh, my own personal site. Duh. If you want, just ask and tell me where it’s going.

Context/Spoilers: Pick your own timeline. It’s after sixth season. Riley’s gone, Tara left, Spike’s still chipped and never did the wacky or got a crush on Buffy, Willow never got addicted… You get the idea. It’s a Happyverse.

Author’s Notes: Okay, my computer is still on the blink, so I’m floppy-disking it—so if any of the formatting is @$%!ed up, that’s why. =) This is written to make myself feel better because my computer is insane and the guy I like won’t get a clue. Also, there’s a drought in New York City (where I live), and it’s also, like, ninety degrees out even though it’s only April (I swear I’m being literal) and I need a break from conjugating Latin. This is in honor of the random rainstorm we had today with lots of thunder and lightning, and of the shoes that eventually began to squelch. Enjoy!

Dedication: Okay, guys, don’t get jealous, but this is for a few people. This is for Lisa, because I haven’t dedicated something to her in what seems like forever, and she deserves it; Lisa, you rock! And I’m working on “Morning” using pen & paper. I promise. And this is also for Len, because she’s recommended books to me and because she’s a hoopy frood; and this is also for Meltha, because she dedicated “Toosies” to me, and that was just about the cutest thing I ever read. So! With that said, on to the story.
 
 
 

Part Two: Because of the Wonderful Things He Does

Buffy could hardly see anything. It was pitch dark outside in the rain except for the faint distant glow of the completely useless lampposts. She stood still for a moment, already soaked to the skin, trying to figure out where Willow and Spike were.

“Buffy?”

Ha! Apparently they were over there. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and tripped squishily in the direction of her best friend’s voice. “Willow?”

She bumped into Spike’s muscled form a few seconds later. “Easy there, Slayer,” he chuckled. “I know I’m irresistible, but don’t you think we should get to know each other first? Dinner and a movie, maybe?”

“Oh, please,” Buffy groaned. “Innuendo from Spike is the last thing I need right now.”

“Just let your eyes adapt for a second,” Willow advised. “Then we can go patrol!”

“Why are you so psyched about this?” Buffy gurgled through a mouthful of rain. “It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s miserable, it’ll be muddy and my hair is *ruined*!”

“I’ll give you the muddy, the wet and the ruined hair,” Willow said patiently, “But it’s not cold at all and it wouldn’t be miserable if you stopped complaining.”

Buffy sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “Fine.” Her eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness, and as her gaze settled on Willow and Spike standing side by side, she noticed that their hands were still clasped. “Eek! Willow! Hands! Hands of Spike!”

Witch and vampire blinked uncomprehendingly. Buffy leapt forward and wrenched her best friend’s hand from her best enemy’s. “Please, Willow, never do that to me again.”

“Buffy, you and I hold hands all the time.”

“But—but—we’re friends and we’ve been friends forever and I *know* that you and Spike are friends but the holding hands thing insinuates non-friendly things and that’s more than I can take right now so please, please, please, for my sake, don’t do it, at least not while I’m around.”

Willow grinned. “You sounded *so* much like me right there.” She shrugged at Spike, who shrugged back. Buffy couldn’t help but think he looked mildly disappointed, and she glowered at him.

“Okay,” Willow said. “No hand-holding with Spike while you’re around. Patrol now? Kick some demon ass?”

Buffy wiped water-logged hair away from her eyes and gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, sure.” She linked arms with Willow and turned towards the cemetery.

“Spike?” Willow said, holding out her other arm.

“Willow!” Buffy protested.

“What?” Willow sighed. “Buffy, you’re gonna have to get used to my friendship with Spike sometime, and we won’t be holding hands. We’re linking arms, which is a strictly platonic gesture and is, I might add, the same thing you and I are doing right now.”

“I *know*,” Buffy muttered. “But—”

Willow cleverly sampled a large dosage of Sad Puppy Eyes strengthened with just the right amount of Resolve Face plus a bit of You-Owe-Me-This, I-Put-Up-With-Riley-PDA-And-That-*Wasn’t*-Platonic Face.

Buffy crumpled under pressure. “Fine, fine, fine.”

Willow grinned at Spike. He grinned back and linked his rain-slicked arm with hers. “Now, on the count of three…?”

She nodded eagerly. “One…”

“Guys, what are you doing?” Buffy asked nervously.

“Two…”

“Willow?” Buffy squeaked.

“Three!” Willow yelled, and she and Spike started skipping like maniacs, pulling a startled Buffy behind them.

“ ‘We’re… *off* to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz…’” Willow trilled.

“ ‘We hear we is a Whiz of a Whiz if ever a Whiz there was!’” Spike yodeled, an octave lower.

They both paused and looked at Buffy expectantly. “Who, me?” she said, and then sighed.

“ ‘If… ever-oh-ever a Whiz there was, the Wizard of Oz is one because…’”

“ ‘Because…’” Willow continued.

“ ‘Because…’” Spike added.

“ ‘Because…’” Willow hinted again.

“ ‘Because…’” Spike whooped.

“ ‘Be-*cause*…” Buffy yelled at the top of her lungs.

“ ‘Because of the Wonderful Things he does!” all three bellowed, beginning to skip down the street again. “ ‘We’re… *off* to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!’”

Any demons that might have been lurking immediately ran away in fright.

The Wizard of Oz was *not* something to be messed with.
 

*   *   *

The rain had stopped about ten minutes ago, and Spike had left them for the smokes he had back in his crypt. Soaking wet, the girls walked along slowly, keeping half an eye out for any poor sodden demons that looked like they needed Slaying.

“So…” Buffy began, flipping a stake idly.

“So…?” Willow asked, watching Buffy flip the stake.

“Now that Spike’s gone off to inhale nicotine and cyanide into non-functional lungs, why don’t you tell me what’s up with you and him?” Buffy said.

“ ‘Up’?” Willow repeated. “With me and him?”

“Would you stop saying everything I say?” Buffy begged. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Spike and I are just friends,” Willow said assuredly. “Trust me.”

“You sure?” Buffy asked, peering at her friend closely.

“Um, Buffy, what’s with the interrogation?” Willow questioned, confused. “Spike doesn’t think of me that way.”

“A-ha!” Buffy crowed triumphantly. “But do *you* think of *Spike* that way?”

Willow pretended to be looking at something else: “What way?”

Buffy stopped and stared at Willow, her jaw dropping. “You do!”

“What?” Willow said nervously.

“You think of Spike that way! Naked Spike thoughts! You want to get naked with Spike!”

“No,” Willow said, sounding doubtful. Buffy intensified her stare, a small smile on her face. “Not really,” Willow clarified. Buffy leaned forward and grinned knowingly. Willow groaned and drew her hands down her face. “Maybe a little.”

“Just a little?”

“Maybe a lot of a little,” Willow whispered.

“Don’t blame you,” Buffy said smugly, straightening up and walking forward. “He’s pretty sexy, for the undead.”

“*Isn’t* he?” Willow agreed, bouncing forward to catch up with the Slayer. “With—with the pants, and the boots, and… Oh, Goddess, with the duster, and the hair—and the nailpolish…”

“Willow, please,” Buffy said. “I’m aware of the merits of Spike. It’s a little unnerving hearing it from you, though.”

“He listens to Dave Matthews Band,” Willow half-moaned, “And he plays guitar. And he sings! And he’s really, really sweet when he wants to be, and have you *ever* seen him without a shirt on?”

Buffy blinked. “Yes…”

“He has abs and pecs and biceps and triceps and any other ­cep-ty thing you can think of, and he has *gorgeous* hands…” Willow trailed off, looking thoughtful. Buffy rolled her eyes.

“No thinking naughty Spike-thoughts when I’m here and I *know* you’re thinking naughty Spike-thoughts, don’t deny it,” she said.

“And of course—and this is the best part,” Willow continued after shooting a glare at her best friend. “Of *course* he’s my friend. Because the ones I like and can’t have are always my friends! ‘Oh, you’re like a sister to me,’ or, ‘Oh, it’s so nice to have someone to talk to about the other girl I like’—”

“Spike *likes* someone?” Buffy demanded. “…Else?”

“No, that was Xander,” Willow said. She glared at the sky. “Darn it.”

“How do you know Spike doesn’t like you?” Buffy asked hesitantly.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Please. Hot guys don’t go for Willow. It’s, like, a rule. Or something.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Buffy asked. “You’re pretty sexy yourself, miss.”

Willow struck a pose and grinned. “You know you want it.”

Buffy laughed and smacked the taller girl on the arm. “ ‘I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.’”

“Come on, he holds hands with me,” Willow said after a moment, when they’d begun walking again. “Spike doesn’t really strike me as the win-her-over-slowly type.”

“More of the ravish-her-‘til-she-can’t-move-and-hope-that-convinces-her-to-stay type,” Buffy agreed.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Willow said with a grin.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. But, still… If he can instigate mad Wizard-of-Oz sessions, don’t you think hand-holding could be a little sign that he cared?”

Willow sighed. “Isn’t he cute when he does that?”

“I don’t know if I’d ever describe Spike as ‘cute’,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “He’s more swelteringly hot than adorable. But I really want to know—since when does the Big Bad skip down the street with the Slayer and her pal singing “The Wizard of Oz”?”

“Since I did it to him, once,” Willow explained. “He thought I was nuts, and he told me it would ruin his reputation. I told him his reputation was already ruined, and if he needed an excuse he could tell his friend either that I put a spell on him or that he was playing with his food.”

“That’s either really funny or really gross or both.”

“Blah. At least it’s stopped raining.”

“Blah indeed,” Buffy said, holding a strand of wet hair up for inspection. “Come with me to get my hair done tomorrow? We can have a girls’ day out—hair, manicures, pedicures… A trip to Sephora?”

Willow looked doubtful.

“Come *on*,” Buffy said. “We can go and shop around. The Limited! Starbucks! The mall! And we’ll look all gorgeous and make ourselves feel better and try to ignore the blatant lack of any sexual activity in our lives.”

It was Willow’s turn to do the arm-smacking. “*Buff*-y!”

The Slayer shrugged unrepentantly. “You know it’s true. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Willow shrugged. “Sounds fun. Spike’ll probably want to sleep over, so he and I will be over in the morning to take Dawn to school, and then I’ll drop him off and—” She paused. “What?”

Buffy’s jaw had dropped again. “Spike *sleeps* *over*?”

“All the time.” Willow nodded. “And he’s never made a move on me. Not *once.*”

“Geez,” Buffy said. “I wonder what’s wrong with him? I would have made a move by now…” She blinked. “If I were him. Um…”

“It’s okay, Buffster. I know what you mean,” Willow assured her. “And, by the way, what suddenly changed your mind? Before you were like, and I quote, ‘Spike hands! Hands of Spike!’ and now you’re all gung-ho.”

“I just wanted to know what was going on first,” Buffy said. “I hate being out of the loop.”

“There’s not much of a loop to be in,” Willow muttered. “Ah, well…”

“Hmm,” Buffy said sympathetically. “What do you think would be a sign from the Powers That Be that he likes you?”

“Eggs,” Willow said promptly, and then giggled.

“Eggs?” Buffy asked. “Care to fill me in?”

“I just realized how silly that sounded, but it’s totally true. There’s this way to make scrambled eggs so they taste *really* good—you whisk them for a really long time, like five or ten minutes, and then you cook them on a really low flame until they’re done all the way through. And you have to stir them. It’s a sure sign that someone loves you if they’ll stir some stupid eggs for twenty minutes just to make you breakfast.”

At the end of this explanation, Willow sounded pretty angry. Buffy blinked. “You’ve made those eggs for Spike, haven’t you?”

“Argh!” Willow growled in confirmation. “I mean, you can always make scrambled eggs on a high flame. It takes three minutes, and that’s if you’re going slowly. But… These eggs…” She sighed. “Stupid male-person.”

“Well, maybe he just doesn’t know,” Buffy pointed out. “I didn’t know about the eggs.”

“Spike *told* me about the eggs,” Willow muttered. “He used to make them for his mother when he was human. He got all wistful-sounding, so I made them for him the next time he came over and he didn’t even notice! And I’m so certain I did them right!”

“I’d say all men should be castrated,” Buffy suggested, “But then… what would they be good for?”

Willow giggled. “You always know just what to say, Buffy.”

“One of my many talents,” the Slayer said.

“What’s this? A party without me?” Spike interrupted, emerging from a side-path through the bushes. “You gals move bloody fast. I was looking all round for you about a mile back.”

Willow and Buffy exchanged glances. “Did he hear anything?” Willow mouthed. Buffy shrugged, wide-eyed.

“Keeping secrets, eh?” Spike said, watching them closely. “ ‘Secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone.’”

Willow rolled her eyes. “And you left preschool when?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Testy, are we?”

“Have a good smoke, Spike?” Buffy asked.

Spike looked back to her, confusion written across his features. “Since when do you care?”

Buffy did her best to look affronted. “Just being considerate.”

“Right. Isn’t it time for all good little Slayers to be in bed?”

“Is that a not-so-subtle hint to get me out of here?” Buffy asked sweetly.

“It’ll get less subtle,” he threatened, and then smiled. “But yes.”

“It’s fine, Buff,” Willow assured her. “We’ll do one last sweep and then head back to my place. We’ll pick you and Dawn up in the morning.”

“Peachy,” Buffy said. “See you in the mawnin’.”

Willow gave her friend a quick peck on the cheek. “Looking forward to Sephora.”

“You better be,” Buffy answered, and gave Spike a quick glare, just in case. “Take care of her.”

Spike tilted his head and met his nemesis’ gaze evenly. “When haven’t I?”

This deep and meaningful moment between the two enemies was interrupted by the subject of their bonding. “Since when have I not been able to take care of myself?” Willow demanded.

Spike sighed. Buffy grinned. Willow raised an eyebrow. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you all. Spike, protect me? Ha! I’ll protect *him*…” She seized his hand and dragged him back towards the cemetery.

Buffy shook her head and turned towards home.

Soon after, it began to rain again.