Title: The Basement

Summary: Yet another someone-returns-to-Sunnydale scenario.

Spoilers: Everything, I guess, but really nothing. Season four rumors about Spike.

Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. I could never some up with characters like this. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and anyone else I forgot.

Rating: G, I think.

Distribution: Please ask.

Feedback: Yes, please. I'm not really a writer. I'm just trying to sort out what the voices in my head want me to do. There are just so *many* of them, telling me all sorts of different things, and I'm not sure which ones to listen to. Feedback would probably help. So would therapy, but I can't afford that right now, so I'll just try to keep on writing.

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"He said *what*?"

"He'll only talk to my mom. It's really freaky, Will. I mean, he's *singing*." Grimacing at the sounds floating up from the basement, she added, "And not very well. You should hear him. Xander's dancing is

better than this noise."

~~~~~~

Buffy was alone for the weekend. Joyce had business out of town -- some buying trip or something; Buffy never cared to know any details -- and so left her daughter to hold down the fort. All was fine until the teen had settled in for an evening of watching John Woo movies. Just when Joe Bob Briggs was getting ready to electrocute Nicolas Cage, the kitchen door slammed open, naturally scaring hell out of her. So she grabbed her nearest stake and slowly made her way to the kitchen.

What she saw shocked her. Spike was rummaging around in cupboards, muttering to himself, "Okay, they've got to be here somewhere."

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" She tightened her grip on the stake, carefully stepping forward in case he decided to bolt or attack her.

With a triumphant cry, he found what he had been searching for. A box of graham crackers and can of chocolate frosting. "I need to talk to your mum. I take it she's out of town. If you need me, I'll be in the basement." And he calmly brushed past her on his way to the basement stairs.

~~~~~~

Willow laughed at the story. "So you just let him take up residence?"

"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "I went down there to tell him to get the hell out, and he was doing laundry." She smiled at the image. "Just folding and ironing everything as if it was the most normal thing he could be doing."

"And what did you do?"

"Told him to go easy on the starch."

~~~~~~

Finally, days that seemed like months later, Joyce returned. And was greeted by a frantic slayer. "Mom, you have to do something about him!"

Frowning, Joyce reminded her daughter, "You were told no boys."

"He's not a *boy*! Just make him leave! Please?"

Joyce followed Buffy's arm-waving to the basement. "Hello?" She saw the piles of clean, folded laundry. Okay, so someone that Buffy can't deal with broke in and did laundry. And this is a problem because...?

"Joyce! You're back!" She found herself gasping for air as strong arms squeezed her frame. "I need a favor. Please? I need a place to stay where *she* --" he gestured upstairs -- "can't hurt me. Can I stay here? You can make her be nice to me. And I'll be your houseboy."

Her gaze moved from the very animated blond vampire clutching her arms to the piles of laundry and back. "Spike, how long have you been down here?"

"Um, two days, I think. By the way, you have a nasty rat problem. Thank you."

She shook her head. She didn't want to know.

And so an agreement was reached. He spent his days in the basement and nights in the actual house, doing all the housekeeping sorts of things that fall by the wayside when people work fulltime, and helping Buffy with her patrols (much to her chagrin and much to the delight of her mother). He had the mother he had always dreamed about, Joyce had the son she never expected, and Buffy had the brother she never wanted.

And Willow started spending a *lot* of time at the Summers' residence.

~~~~ the end ~~~~

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