A Day In The Life
Disclaimer: I don't own, but I'd certainly be okay if House owned me. Hehe.
A/N: Well I know it has been some time. School was very busy this semester—whoever knew becoming a teacher was so much damn busy work. On the other hand my nephew was born November 1st, and after a few complications both Mommy and Baby are very healthy—You know if it weren’t for the crying I’d kidnap the little bugger and cuddle him to death. So finally I got around to writing—and hopefully I’ll be doing that much more often now.
Wednesday, November 6th
Buffy rolled over. Smile spread across her lips, there was nothing better than sleeping in on a cool day when the covers were toasty warm. Yawning lightly, the petite woman’s eyes slid open and she let out a sharp squeal pulling the blankets up to her neck.
There in House’s spot on the bed, was none other than her own pesky stalker: Caleb, a.k.a. The First Evil. Calming her breathing, Buffy glared at the man who was looking at her, lying on his side, propped up by his arm—a stupid little smirk on his admittedly not so ugly face.
Jaw locking, Buffy growled, “Okay, if this is going to happen, we’re going to need some ground rules.”
Caleb quirked a brow, “What is this, a relationship?”
“Apparently,” Buffy sniffed and rolled over so her back was facing him. It didn’t take long for her to flip back over though, glare in place, “How long have you been there?”
“Ever since scruffy went to work,” Buffy shot upright, she needed to check on Melody and Emmy and Andrew and Faith.
“Relax, Buffy, the nerd sent the mini-you duo to school, and the slutty slayer is still passed out.”
Rolling her neck, Buffy slipped off the bed, “Don’t call them that. Any of them.”
“Sorry, didn’t think you’d be so touchy about your ‘friends’. So what else are we doing today,”
“Killing you and taking a nap,” Buffy grumbled as she tugged on her fluffy robe.
Ignoring the stalker who followed her into the kitchen as she made her tea and toast, Buffy checked the fridge for any notes. Notes that weren’t taped to the forehead often ended up being taped to the fridge—when they weren’t taped to the ceiling. Honestly House had been working overtime in the last month to teach Melody, Emmy, and Andrew his bad habits. If Buffy was honest with herself, she would be shocked that the trio hadn’t started saying “duh” at every turn.
Back to the note…notes on the refrigerator, there was one from Mel and Emmy, one from Faith and Andrew, and one from her beloved husband. Faith had jotted down some mishmash of letters that Buffy assumed to be her kidnapping note for Andrew. Buffy crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash and moved onto the girls. After a quick perusal, it was clear Emmy had actually written it, asking for a ride to the library after school. House, on the other hand, had simply scrawled his love and that he’d be back for lunch.
Straightening, Buffy felt the odd sensation of her body touching something that wasn’t quite there. Her mind snapped back to the pest. Maybe there was a spell or a voodoo doll that would keep Caleb out of her personal bubble. But being Buffy, she knew that luck wouldn’t be on her side.
“So what is the plan,” Caleb smirked. “Are we going to kill something, or uh dressy up naughty and flaunt it?”
“And again, I want you to be corporeal, so I can slap you into yesterday,” Buffy responded lightly, though her eyes were narrowed.
Buffy ran her fingers through her hair, sliding the suds down soft blonde strands to swirl down the drain. Humming, Buffy turned around under the shower spray. She really did love a hot shower, all of the aches and pains just melted away.
“Well grab a cab, grab a cap and baby, come right by,” Buffy sang under her breath.
“And she was hot—as she kissed my mouth. She was hot,” the lyrics were smooth with a bit of a country brogue.
Buffy froze and stiffened, hands shifting quickly to cover her body, “Caleb!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Caleb answered promptly.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here!”
“I thought we were singing…”
A slender hand snaked around the curtain and pulled back a fresh towel.
“Aww,” Caleb cooed. “Don’t be like that. I’ve seen you naked before what makes this any different?”
The shower curtain was roughly shoved to the side and Caleb was met with a glare that would actually have killed him, had he been well, corporeal.
“This is going to get really old, really fast,” Buffy groused as she flicked her fingertips at the man perched on the sink-top—small drops of water passing through his face. “And don’t call me Ma’am!”
After Buffy had slammed the door on Caleb’s face as she dressed, the apparition had disappeared… At least until Buffy was driving down the road to the grocery store, multi-colored list in her back pocket.
“So,” Caleb drawled, cheeky smile in place, “how have we been?”
Buffy jumped, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Come to think of it, I understand now why I preferred the Bringers.”
“Well, they were blind and mute,” Buffy smirked as she turned the wheel.
“Looks like the Fiesta Queen has bite.”
“Damn straight,” Buffy’s eyes twinkled, and just for a second, it was like she was bantering with Spike and not her not-so-mortal-mortal-enemy.
Careening into a parking spot, Buffy grabbed her purse and her reusable bags and hopped out of her SUV. Of course the moment she turned around she stepped back due to the untimely presence of Caleb.
“Okay,” Buffy sighed, “if we’re going to do this
, we really do need to have ground rules.”
“Like,” Caleb asked nearly curious.
Buffy bit her lip in thought, “Like in public places, you don’t be invisible so I don’t look like a crazy person.”
“How about no,” Caleb returned hands locking behind his back and rocking on his heels boyishly.
Buffy rifled in her purse and pulled out two small pink balls, “How about I put in these ear plugs and pretend you don’t exist.”
Caleb’s face darkened considerably, “Deal.”
Buffy dropped the ear plugs back into her purse, “Nice doing business with you, now shall we?”
“Fine,” Caleb grumbled, not liking in the least that he had just been conned.
Buffy was already halfway towards the shop doors when she turned back and looked at the embodiment of evil, “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about the ground rules, we’ll work the rest of them out later.”
Caleb sniffed and stalked toward her. When he came level with her, he smiled sweetly and stood as closely as he could to her, “Of course, Dear.”
Buffy reached over the counter to take the steaks from the middle-aged woman, Caleb had shoved his hands in his pockets and was standing rather like an abandoned child beside the nearly full cart.
“You have such a handsome husband,” the woman smiled at Buffy.
Buffy’s mouth dropped open before she forced herself to close her mouth and smile weakly before walking back to Caleb and her cart.
Caleb, being as perceptive as he was, narrowed in immediately on Buffy’s unease.
“Something wrong, Dear?”
Buffy shuddered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Caleb responded, thoroughly confused. “Now we need butter.”
“Right,” Buffy agreed still in shock.
Buffy couldn’t help but smile as she pulled up just behind House’s motorcycle as he was getting off. Caleb had disappeared again for the moment, leaving Buffy to herself.
House tucked his helmet under his arm and limped over to his wife, “Hey, Babe.”
“Sweetheart,” Buffy returned as House leaned down and curled one hand around the base of her neck as he pressed his lips to hers.
“Mm, delicious,” House muttered. “You know, I have an hour before I have to head back… Feel like an encore of last night?”
Buffy moaned and leaned against Greg, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, one hand tucking into his back pocket.
“You have no idea how good that sounds.”
House pouted a little, “Not even a little fooling around?”
“Play your cards right and I might be able to find some time,” Buffy licked her lips in hope.
“What do I need to do,” Greg asked honestly—hell he may be mischievous, but he didn’t jeopardize smoochie-time with Buffy consciously.
“Go microwave the can of soup on the stove while I bring the groceries in,” the blonde woman grinned and pressed herself more firmly against her husband.
House couldn’t help but grin to himself, eyes sparkling darkly as he poured the tomato soup and water into the glass dish. Double checking that Buffy was still outside, Doctor Gregory House slipped a small plastic baggie of a brownish-black powder from his jacket pocket, and sprinkled it onto the red soup. Mixing it quickly, house tucked it into the microwave and punched in the time before going to shed his jacket.
Buffy kicked the door closed amid the half dozen bags filled to the brim with food. She could hear House humming Neil Young’s “Tonight’s The Night”. He was certainly in a good mood, and to tell the truth, it was infectious. Nodding her head to the imaginary beat, Buffy sorted through the bags and put them away in the cabinets and the fridge.
As she was reaching down to grab the cranberry juice, House came up behind her and gripped her hips, swaying gently. Spinning, Buffy reached up and linked her hands behind Greg’s neck.
Before anything real could happen, the microwave dinged and House released his wife disappointedly. She grabbed the cups and poured them both some juice while he dished out the soup. Smiling as he set a bowl before her, Buffy leaned up and pecked his cheek.
House grinned, those words always made him smile, “Love you too.”
The Slayer moaned as the warm soup touched her tongue, “Oh this is good, a little different than usual, but good.”
House swallowed his mouthful of soup and nodded, “I put some rosemary in it to liven it up—Wilson said it was good.”
“Yummy. So have you heard anything from Faith or Andrew today?”
Shrugging, House thought back to the frantic phone call he’d received just as he had arrived at the hospital.
“I think Faith was taking him to a cookie factory down in Pennsylvania,” Greg watched as her cute little mouth fell into an ‘O’ that was usually reserved solely for him.
“That’s, oh god,” Buffy chuckled in disbelief. “She’s actually being nice to him—I think. I hope, gosh, I hope she didn’t duck tape him up and tease him.”
House shrugged, “Either way it doesn’t sound so bad.”
Buffy’s half smile turned into a frown in record time, “You want to play with Faith?”
“No, no, and no!” House backpedalled as quickly as he could, “I meant I wouldn’t mind you tying me up, Babe.”
The frown morphed into a sexy little smirk as the last of Buffy’s soup disappeared, “Hmm, too bad I don’t have the patience right now to tie you up.”
“Oh,” Buffy repeated as she stood and nearly dragged him to the bedroom.
He sent a silent prayer up to the Powers for slayer metabolism.
Meanwhile almost to Pittsburgh, Andrew was shivering in his Luke Skywalker jammies. Faith, on the other hand was happily humming along to her requisitioned mp3 player—which really meant that on the way out the door she had snagged Andrew’s. Sitting in the back of the gypsy cab the duo were a sight to see, luckily, the driver was being paid not to care—especially that the male was duck taped quite tightly but didn’t seem to be too angry.
Emmy rolled her eyes at her adoptive mother and sister. They were both staring confusedly at the building before them.
“Has this always been here,” Buffy asked.
Melody nodded, “Yeah, this has to be new. I mean we’ve run down this road more than a dozen times.”
Another eye roll, “It’s been here for more than half a century.”
“Sure,” Buffy hedged, “that’s what they want you to believe.”
Melody frowned, “I don’t buy it.”
“Whatever,” Emmy huffed as she walked up the steps to the Princeton Plainsboro Public Library.
Melody and Buffy shared a shoulder shrug before following. After all, Buffy had to drive them home, and Melody had homework to do too.
Standing in an alcove of the library, Buffy listened intently to the person on the other end of the phone call.
“So everything is set?”
She smiled as the person responded, “Good, I’ll tell her tonight. Thanks Oz, you’re brilliant! When is your next gig, I figure I’ll take the girls and we’ll bond. Friday night, okay I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Over dinner, House’s Chicken Alfredo, Buffy and Greg talked with the girls about school. House inquiring about what “crap” they were being taught and Buffy asking about their classmates. Melody and Emmy shrugged the questions off answering only that things were good. They did however return the interrogation and asked when they could visit House and Buffy at work, which of course reminded House that his assistant hadn’t been to work in a while, and he mentally reminded himself to punish her.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder at the clock, Faith and Andrew weren’t back yet, and Andrew’s phone was off. She figured she’d take the patrol tonight—she didn’t like it when Mel and Em slayed on weeknights, they had school to think about.
Turning back to the conversation about Andrew’s muffins, Buffy sighed. Sometimes life was boring as hell—she loved it.
“Oh,” Buffy straightened in her chair, “Melody, I have some good news for you. I’ve arranged for you to talk to your parents tomorrow.”
Melody shot out of her chair and wrapped Buffy in a tight hug, nearly strangling the older slayer in joy.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Buffy nodded returning the happy smile, but one eye was stuck on Emmy whose face was slack, eyes downcast. Patting Melody on the back, Buffy quickly changed the subject to what Faith could possibly be doing to torture Andrew. Emmy bounced back fairly quickly, but Buffy wasn’t about to dismiss the moment of sadness.
Thursday, November 7th
Buffy dropped down into the booth at the back of the demon bar. Across from her was a shadow.
“I heard you wanted to talk to me,” she laced her fingers together and dropped her hands on the table.
The man on the other side of the table leaned forward, “Yes. We have our deal, and I’ve ensured that no one in my control breaks it, right?”
Buffy nodded. This was one of the deals she’d made with the vampires of Princeton that had pissed off the council. She supplied blood—bagged, but human to the vampires and they didn’t attack humans and she didn’t slay them. There were always a few who wandered into the territory and killed—they were swiftly dealt with by a slayer, or the other vampires.
“What is it,” Buffy asked a little warily.
“There have been rumors that a coven has been heading south from New York, taking over towns and leaving record high deaths in their wake. A few of my boys saw a couple strangers the other night. We dealt with them, but they were wearing rings,” the near century old vampire plunked down a heavy, ugly ring before the slayer.
Reaching for the object, Buffy frowned as she rolled it around her fingers. The letters “NYC” and three symbols Buffy knew to be from the Greek alphabet.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she shook her head. “Frat-Boy Vampires. Say Carlos, I miss vampires with class, like you, you know not to turn morons—don’t repeat that though. I’ve a reputation to keep.”
Carlos chuckled lowly a bit of fang flashing, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame Slayer.”
“I’ll set up a patrol, you know where to reach me if you get any clues, have a good night.”
Toeing off her boots, Buffy shrugged off her leather jacket and shimmied out of her jeans. In just her sweater and panties, Buffy waltzed into her bedroom. Surprised to see House was still awake and sitting up in bed.
“What are you reading,” Buffy asked as she changed her sweater to an old t-shirt before dropping down onto the bed and scrambling under the covers.
“Translation of an alternative Indian medicine book,” House answered as he shut the heavy book and dropped it on the floor before getting up. “How bad was tonight?”
Buffy’s lip curled in displeasure, “Annoying. Apparently some Frat in New York got turned is on a power trip south.”
House left the bedroom but returned shortly with a steaming mug, “Raspberry tea. You look beat.”
“Oh nice,” Buffy pouted as she accepted the cup. “If it’s anyone’s fault I’m tired, it’s yours!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” House winked before claiming Buffy’s lips in a fiery kiss before releasing her. “Drink that, and then sleep, doctor’s orders.”
Buffy sighed slightly, “That’s too bad I decided I wanted Wilson as my doctor.”
Taking a sip, Buffy cuddled down in bed, setting the mug on the side table.
“I’ll kill him,” was House’s only response.
“That’s nice, Dear,” Buffy patted his leg tiredly.
This time it was House’s turn to pout, and pout he did.
Happy New Years Everyone! May everyone have a safe and happy New Year!