“Dawn, can you pass the potatoes, please?”

Hank’s question was the first sound to interrupt the sullen silence at the dinner table since the meal had begun. It was rare for Hank to be in town for any length of time, but when he was there, he still expected to have dinner cooked for him and a family meal, despite the impending divorce proceedings. His soon-to-be ex-wife didn’t seem to have the guts to complain. Dawn just wished her mother would finally kick her father out for good. As bad as things were when he was gone, they were even worse when he was present.

Not looking up from where she was sulking, Dawn shoved the potatoes in his direction.

If Hank noticed the rudeness of the gesture, he didn’t show it. “So, pumpkin,” he said in a cheerful voice that was grossly inappropriate to the situation, “how’s school going?”

“Fine.” Dawn wouldn’t have responded, but that probably meant that she’d get more attention. And all she really wanted to do right now was finish dinner, get out of the house, and go find her friends.

“You have good teachers?” he pressed.

“Sure,” she grumbled.

“And your classes?”

“Fine.”

“How about cheerleading practice?”

Dawn blinked. No, there was no way in hell he was really that clueless, was there? “I’m not on the cheerleading squad,” she glared at him. “That was Elizabeth, not me.”

Hank frowned. “You mean Buffy?” he corrected.

Dawn felt the anger start to build within her. “Her name is Elizabeth,” she insisted. “Maybe if you ever actually bothered to pay attention to either of us, you’d know these things.”

Anger flashed in Hank’s eyes at that. “I work very hard,” he hissed, “to give you girls a life worthy of your status. And, really, you don’t even have the same status that Buffy does, so maybe you should be a bit more grateful that I’ve let you into this world.”

“Hank—” Dawn’s mother began hesitantly.

“I don’t want this life!” Dawn practically screeched, leaping up out of her seat. She snatched up the silver – and very expensive – decanter from the table and threw it across the room violently. “We don’t want this life! What we want is a real dad!”

“You want to be poor, then?” Hank bit back snidely. “You want to be a commoner? You ungrateful little brat!”

“Is money all you ever think about?!” Dawn shot back. “’Cause there are a lot of things that are more important!”

Dawn’s mother winced and lay a hand on her daughter’s arm, attempting to calm her down until this blew out of proportion.

Dawn quickly snatched it back. “I hope you enjoy playing with your newest slut,” she hissed dangerously, tears in her eyes. “I hope she makes you miserable just like everything else in your pathetic life does. Because you don’t feel anything. You’re just a heartless monster…”

“You will show some respect for me, young lady,” Hank’s face was burning with rage. “And you do not talk about my fiancée that way!”

“ ‘Fiancée’?” Dawn repeated with a snort. “In case no one ever bothered to inform you, you’re already married!”

“That’s it!” Hank shouted at the top of his lungs. “Up to your room, young lady!”

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to listen to you,” she insisted.

“I am your father!”

“No, you’re not,” she shot right back. “You don’t know the first thing about being a father. You’ve never been a father to me or Elizabeth.”

“You are in so much trouble,” he said angrily, stalking around the table and grabbing her arm roughly.

She tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “You’re hurting me,” she whimpered.

Her mother was on her feet in an instant at that. “Let her go,” she insisted sternly.

Hank cast her an annoyed look. “I can see now just how spoiled you girls are,” he informed Dawn dangerously, loosing his grip so that it was no longer painful but refusing to let her go. “I suppose it’s my own fault. I’ve been too lenient on you, let you get away with too much. Well, I’m not going to let whatever silly notions have infected your sister’s mind to get to you, too. It’s about time you both stopped throwing away the lives I’ve given you.”

“Maybe we want our own lives.” Dawn felt the rage boil over within her. “Maybe we want something more than your shallow existence.”

“You are a Summers!” Hank exclaimed, outraged. “You should be honored to bear such a name of success!”

“God, medieval much?” Dawn snorted with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her hair.

“We are through having this discussion, young lady.” Hank yanked on her arm, pulling her over to the staircase. “You are going to your room, and you are going to stay there until you’ve learned some respect.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Dawn dug her heels into the carpet, making his task as difficult as possible.

“Hank!” Her mother ran after them. “Be careful!”

“You’ve been spoiling her, too,” he accused bitterly. “None of you appreciate me. And you wonder why I’m leaving?”

Dawn’s mother’s jaw opened wide as if she’d just been slapped. “You arrogant bastard!” she screamed. “How dare you?! Do you have any idea how much I’ve put up with—”

“If you were actually as good a wife as you claim to be, you would’ve put up with so much more!” he snapped back. Dawn still struggling in one arm, he managed to shove her into her room. “Now, stay put where you belong!” he said angrily.

“You’re pathetic!” Dawn screeched at the top of her lungs. “You don’t know anything about having a family. You’re just a complete loser. Spike’s parents would never—” She froze abruptly, eyes widening when she realized what she just said.

Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Who on earth is Spike?!” he demanded.

“Oops…” Dawn’s face paled.

“Go, Anya!” Devon cheered, clapping his hands together.

The others at the table added to the applause as well.

Anya managed a small smile before collapsing in the chair Xander held out for her. “Thanks,” she agreed. “Long time, no see.” Her eyes alighted on Cordelia, and her smile widened. “Longer time, no see.”

Cordelia made a humphing noise as Xander sat down between the two of them. “I helped watch over you while you were sick,” she insisted. “You were even conscious twice while I was there.”

“There’s a difference between ‘conscious’ and ‘aware of my surroundings’,” Anya countered.

“Just like there’s a difference between ‘oblivious’ and ‘rude’?” Cordy snarked.

Anya grinned. “God, I missed you last semester.”

Cordy smiled as well. “I would hug you,” she announced, “but you’ve probably got all sorts of nasty germs that I don’t want to pick up.”

“As opposed to all the nasty germs that were in my room when you watched over me?” Anya pointed out.

“Held a handkerchief over my mouth the entire time,” Cordy retorted.

“Shall I sneeze on you, then?”

“You’ll have to sneeze on Xander first.”

Anya snorted. “Stuck up prude.”

“Capitalist bitch.”

“Prom queen.”

“Cheap slut.”

They both laughed in sudden unison.

“God, I missed you,” Anya smiled.

“Me, too,” Cordelia agreed. “How about this? We hug through Xander. Make a couple of his wet dreams come true?”

Anya nodded in agreement, and Xander suddenly found himself the hug buffer between Cordy and Anya’s disease. His embarrassment at Cordy’s last astute comment washed away, and an idiotic grin crossed his face at being hugged by two such beautiful women. Wet dream, indeed…

“Are they always like this?” he wondered with a wistful sigh when they both broke off their hug.

“Pretty much,” Tara agreed with a sly smile. “Although half the time they’re throwing stuff as well.”

“General rule of thumb,” Devon added. “Instant death comes to anyone who tries to sit between Anya and Cordy. And Spike. Or, at least, death to their clothing.”

Xander looked down at his Hawaiian shirt. “Somehow I don’t think it would be a tragedy if this shirt died,” he pointed out.

“More like a blessing,” Cordy agreed with a shake of her head. “You look even gayer than Spike did that one time we made him wear my dress.”

“Spike in a dress?” Xander laughed aloud at the image.

“It was great,” Anya agreed. “He does very, very stupid things when he’s drunk. We took many pictures.”

“And are currently holding them over him for blackmail,” Cordy agreed. “What was the ransom?” She frowned as she tried to remember the forgotten detail.

“Five-hundred twenty-three dollars and forty-seven cents,” Anya provided. “And, he becomes our massage boy until graduation.”

“He still hasn’t caved, has he?” Cordy frowned.

“No,” Anya sighed wistfully, “and Elizabeth will never let us get away with the massage part now…”

Snickers spread between the two of them again.

“OK, I am so lost.” Xander blinked several times.

“We all are, too,” Tara assured him. “Don’t bother trying to figure the three of them when they get all weird and loopy. You’ll just get a very bad headache.”

“Someone speaks from experience?” Devon inquired.

Tara gave him a long-suffering nod.

“Where is Spike anyway?” Anya demanded, scanning the table intently as if he would miraculously appear if she just thought about it hard enough. “He called me Anyanka a total of thirty-three times while I was sick, and I was too tired to respond. I’m thinking of suing him for harassment and emotional trauma.”

“He and Elizabeth are staying at his house this weekend,” Tara provided. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“Isn’t it sooo sweet?” Cordy said in a squeaky voice, making little kissy faces.

“At least I don’t have to listen to them having orgasms,” Anya shrugged.

“They didn’t disturb you while you were sick, did they?” Tara asked, concerned.

Anya sipped at a spoonful of her soup. “Actually, they did a surprisingly good job of keeping it down,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t absolve Spike from the other forms of emotional trauma he inflicted upon me. Lawsuit, here I come…”

“I thought you calculated that Spike doesn’t have enough money for a lawsuit to be worthwhile?” Cordy inquired.

“I’m assuming that he and Elizabeth will get married in the near future, adding her inheritance to the pot to be won,” Anya responded.

“What if they have a good pre-nup?” Cordelia pointed out.

“I’m trying to find a crafty way of allowing them to let me write their pre-nup,” Anya explained wisely.

“Should I feel concerned that she’s trying to rob two of my best friends blind?” Xander wondered.

“I’m trying to rob everyone blind,” Anya assured him with a quick pat to the hand. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing personal.”

Tara laughed at that. “I take it you’re feeling back to your old self, then?” she observed.

Anya nodded. “I’m now able to remain conscious for up to eight hours straight,” she agreed. “And I’ve already contacted all my professors to find out how to make up all the work I missed.”

Tara sighed. “That’s got to be a lot of work,” she said sympathetically. “You’ll be fighting with Willow over who has the least free time.”

“Actually, it’s not too bad,” Anya shrugged. “I missed a couple of review weeks for the material in econ 120s, so I’m not actually that far behind. I fully intend to be caught up by eighth week.”

“Just don’t overtax yourself,” Tara advised. “You don’t want to have a relapse.”

“Overtaxing equals orgasms,” Cordelia couldn’t help but tease. “So, none of those.”

Anya and Xander both sulked before turning back to their food…

Willow jumped in surprise when a hand rested on her shoulder. Holding her hand over her heart to steady its erratic thumping and gasping for breath, she swiveled around on the lab stool to see Oz as the source of her recent trauma. “Don’t do that!” she exclaimed, finally beginning to calm down.

“Sorry.” Oz shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Willow frowned. She’d never known Oz to be the nervous type, but right now he looked like the poster boy for anxiety disorder…well, really, really mellow anxiety disorder, at least. The circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t been getting nearly enough sleep, and his messed hair and rumpled clothes hinted at the duration of this concern.

“Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly. She hadn’t exactly seen Oz in the past month or so, what with all her work, so she didn’t know how permanent this situation was.

“Can I talk to you?” he requested. His eyes darted around to the other three students in the lab. “Alone.”

Willow bit her lip at how this would make her report even more late, but this seemed to be an official RA thing. Her prof would have to understand that. “Yeah, sure,” she agreed. “We can go in one of the empty classrooms.” She jangled her key ring for the bio building up for emphasis.

The walk down the hallway was made in complete silence. And not just ‘normal Oz’ complete silence. More like ‘impending doom’ complete silence. Willow began to grow steadily more worried as she unlocked a random classroom and they went inside.

Checking to make sure the door was firmly closed behind them, Oz breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m in really serious trouble,” he admitted, a distressed expression on his face.

Willow sat down on one of the desks, facing him. “What happened?” she demanded, concerned.

“You know Veruca, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, we’ve been hanging out a lot lately. Or, we were,” he corrected. “Way too much.”

“And this is…bad?” Willow guessed.

“She seemed OK at first. A little weird, but OK.”

OK, Oz was rambling now. That had to be one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. “Oz, what’s going on?” she demanded.

He sighed. “Last weekend we went to this party and… Well, I got a little drunk and a little high. I kind of don’t exactly remember what happened. But the next morning I wake up next to Veruca in a basement, and she tells me…” He trailed off, actually embarrassed for once.

“You slept with her?” Willow provided.

He nodded. “But that’s not it. She said… You heard about what happened to Professor Simmonds’ house?”

Willow nodded numbly. The burglary/arson had been in all the local and campus papers, as well as on all the news channels.

“She’s says that we’re the ones who did it,” he admitted nervously.

“Oh my god…” Willow was stunned speechless. It was too impossible to be true. Surely, not Oz…

“Willow?” Oz asked anxiously.

“Oh my god,” she repeated, still stunned. “Why? How? Professor Simmonds is so cool…”

“I know,” Oz agreed sadly. “Apparently, he found out that Veruca had cheated on one of her papers and she wanted revenge. I was a bit too shocked to fully pay attention, really.”

“And you helped her?” Willow still couldn’t believe it.

“Apparently, I threw the brick through the window that got us in, and I helped her carry some of the stuff we stole,” he agreed.

“Why?” she repeated.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, frustrated. “I don’t even remember any of this. But she’s really good with the suggestibility. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she was capable of tricking me while I admittedly wasn’t exactly in control of all my faculties.”

Willow nodded numbly. “This is bad,” she decided. “This is really, really bad…”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that.” Oz managed his usual wry smile.

“What are you going to do?” Willow wanted to know.

“See, that’s the problem,” he sighed. “I’m torn. I know I should turn myself in, but…”

Willow nodded sympathetically. “If you explain how it happened…” she began. “I mean, it sounds like it was all Veruca’s idea.”

“I don’t want to go to jail.” His voice sounded small, frightened.

“Maybe I should talk with Catherine…” Willow said thoughtfully. Off of Oz’s look, she clarified, “She’s the head of housing. I’ll give her a generic, anonymous situation and ask her what would be the best way to handle it. Does that work for you?”

He nodded. “It’s better than nervously wandering about campus, wondering if I left behind some evidence that the police will use to find me.”

Willow gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll find a way to keep you out of jail,” she promised, her resolve face firmly in place.

He gave her a quick nod, his expression already more relaxed now that he’s finally gotten that off of his chest. “You finishing up in the lab?” he inquired.

She shook her head. “Nah. I haven’t eaten all day. Wanna head to dinner with me?”

“Sure,” he agreed, and together they left the bio building and headed for Westing Hall.

What they didn’t see was Veruca watching them from the far side of the courtyard. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Willow laugh at something Oz said before she slipped between the buildings, vanishing into the night…

“God, you’re such a freak!” Elizabeth giggled, batting away the Washcloth Monster that was trying to nibble at her throat.

Spike rolled his eyes, though the effect was rather lost since she couldn’t see him from where he was sitting behind her in the large tub. The hand covered by a green washcloth so that it looked vaguely like a gaping mouth turned back to face her, and the Washcloth Monster dove in for another attack. “Take it back,” he teased, holding her steady in his lap as she thrashed so that the sudsy water wouldn’t splash onto the floor. “Jus’ take it back and ‘ll call off my evil minion. Or else…” The Washcloth Monster snapped its fuzzy green jaws twice menacingly.

She giggled and squirmed some more in his arms, loving the feel of their bodies pressed together, wet and warm and covered with sweet-smelling bubbles. “You are a freak, honey,” she informed him defiantly before she turned back to face him, her expression softening. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way…”

Their lips met in a brief kiss, and she turned in his arms so that she could run her hands up and down his chest, running hot soapy water over his bare flesh in the process. “Mmm,” she sighed, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Remind me why we haven’t done this before?”

“’Cause Mum and Dad wander in an’ out of here all the time when they’re home?” he suggested.

She pouted. “You need your own personal bathtub,” she decided.

“Shall I get myself a Jacuzzi with that?” he teased. “A sauna?”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “and while you’re at it, an Olympic-sized pool would be nice…”

“We don’t need that much room,” he scoffed.

“Don’t we?” she asked coyly, twirling around her finger one of the strands of hair that had fallen loose from where she’d tied it up to keep it from getting too wet.

He smiled at that and leaned in to nibble on her lower lip.

She let him for a minute before pulling away and turning in his arms once more. “Much more comfortable this way,” she announced, sitting down between his legs once more and leaning back on his chest. Her hip relaxed now that it was no longer pressed uncomfortably into the porcelain.

He nodded in agreement, and the Washcloth Monster dissolved once more as he continued to scrub her body. “Don’t think I don’t remember what you got away with last night,” he teased good-naturedly.

Elizabeth was stumped at that. “Huh?” she inquired, hissing in delight when the washcloth ventured between her thighs.

“You were s’posed to tell me somethin’ about yourself that I din’t know,” he clarified.

“Oh, yeah,” she remembered, a sly smile creeping upon her face. “I guess we got a bit…distracted last night…”

He chuckled that deep, husky chuckle of his against the nape of her throat. “Unless you’re plannin’ on being distractin’ again, I wanna hear this,” he informed her.

She bit her lip, building up her courage before she turned to face him once more. Her eyes met his startlingly blue ones, and she made sure to hold his gaze as she began to speak. “I—” she began.

Bring!

They both groaned at the interruption.

Bring!

“Gotta get that,” he informed her. “Mum’s expectin’ a call…”

She shifted and allowed him to get up out of the bathtub, cursing at the horrible timing.

Bring!

“All right already!” Spike shouted at the offending telephone as he quickly toweled himself off. “’m coming.”

Elizabeth leaned back in the tub and happily watched his sexy ass as he ran out of the room to get the phone. She soon heard muffled words from the master bedroom and turned her attention to the bubble bath before her for entertainment while she waited for Spike to return.

She’d managed to create a rather amusing, vaguely bunny-shaped formation out of the bubbles by the time he returned. She greeted him with a smile…and then a frown when she noticed his worried expression and the cordless phone he still held in one hand.

“For you,” he provided. “’S the Nibblet.”

Unable to think of any reason why Dawn would call her here, Elizabeth took the phone. “Dawn, what’s up?” she asked, slightly alarmed.

Frantic teen-speech whispered from the receiver into Elizabeth’s ear.

Elizabeth blinked for a second, and then: “You told him what?!”

Ooh, Elizabeth's dad finally knows... I bet no one saw that coming from 20 chapters back. ~_^ As usual, review for more or else I'll sic the Washcloth Monster on you, naked Spike not attached. See? Told you I was evil. ^_^