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“I don’t even want to know.” Buffy turned pointedly away from Xander and Willow and plopped down on Giles’s couch, turning on the TV to The Simpsons. “Where’s Giles?”
Xander began an attempt at explanation, “Buffy, this isn’t really-”
“No! Giles?”
Willow sighed and pulled the straight pins out of her mouth, where she had been clutching them in her teeth. “Olivia is in town. He’s on a date. He told me not to wait up.”
At that, Buffy did turn back to her friends, stifling a giggle once more at Xander’s appearance. He rolled his eyes. “Look, this wasn’t my idea! I don’t get off on wearing skirts so that Willow can practice her sewing skills. She told me that it would only take a few minutes about . . . oh, an hour ago.” Xander raised his eyebrows and looked down at Willow, who shrugged.
“Harder than I thought.” Willow carefully returned to stitching the hem of the skirt, oblivious to Xander’s murderous glare. “So, Buff, how about you and Riley? Plans?”
“Well, we were going to rent I Know What You Did Last Summer so I could pretend to be scared and hang all over him, but . . .”
“Soldier boy got called to action?” Xander guessed.
“Yep. So here I am. Watching The Simpsons. I don’t like The Simpsons,” Buffy complained, angrily turning the television off. “Stupid Bart. Stupid Lisa. Stupid Initiative!”
A pained voice from the kitchen called out, “Keep the noise down, you stupid gits! Trying to be drunk and disorderly in ‘ere.”
Buffy rose from the couch and entered the kitchen, arching an eyebrow at the inebriated vampire sprawled on Giles’s kitchen floor. “Found his secret stash?”
Spike opened one eye to look at the Slayer. “Yeah. Not too bad, either. But a few novelty mugs met with tragic ends.” He gestured vaguely to a pile of colored shards on the floor behind his head. “Dunno ‘ow it ‘appened.”
“Of course not, Spike. You would never hurt an innocent coffee mug.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t!” With that, Spike’s head lolled back onto the floor and his eyes closed.
“Oh-kay, then.” Buffy trudged back into the living room, pouting. She noted that Xander was no longer wearing a skirt and that Willow was zipping up her duffel bag. “Finish?”
“No,” Willow responded with an exaggerated air of pain. “Xander said he didn’t want to help anymore.”
“Hey, next time you need your oil changed . . . well, actually, I don’t know how to do that . . . but . . . next time you want something, you know, manly, then come to me.”
“Right, Xander. I’ll just do that.” Rising from the floor, Willow gave Buffy a quick wave. “I’d, you know, stay, but . . . I promised somebody that I’d help them study tonight since I’m solo and all.”
“No worries, Will. How about you, Xander?” Buffy asked hopefully.
“No can do, Buffster. Anya has decided that we will be dining at some French-sounding place. It sounds expensive. I’m frightened. She told me to wear a tie.”
“Do you own a tie?”
Xander’s hands raised helplessly and he shrugged. “I have no idea!” He glanced down at his watch and moaned. “I’ve gotta go find one, though. Uh, catch you later, okay?”
The Slayer forced a smile. “Sure. Have fun with Anya.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” After taking a deep, fortifying breath, Xander exited the house, sprinting to catch up with Willow.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Buffy,” she murmured despondently to herself, pulling a nearby afghan up to her chin and laying down on the couch.
When Buffy woke up and looked around, the clock on the wall read 1:05. “Well, looks like I dodged the bullet on Valentine’s Day,” she muttered bitterly. Preparing to throw back the afghan, the Slayer noticed a small green velvet box resting near her heart. “What the . . .” Smiling, she sat and lifted the box’s lid, gasping at the sight of a slender silver ring with four pinpoint diamonds set in it. “Oh my God!” Buffy caught the tiny sliver of paper that fell from the box and read the unsigned note once, twice, again:
Buffy,
I would never forget you on Valentine’s Day.