It was a consequence of setting personal appointments with the President. At a quarter of seven, Bartlet was called into the Sit Room for a quick briefing about a pilot flying an F16 Falcon from the 27-fighter wing at Cannon Air Force Base in New Mexico that had left his group. The President was consequentially unable to honor the preset breakfast meeting. Charlie was instructed to escort Buffy and Spike to the Residence dining room, where Renee was to make them whatever they wanted.

Charlie left them to themselves with some cheeky note about pornography, and his exit was drowned out by Spike’s laughter and Buffy’s blush.

“I’m mortified,” the Slayer complained, sinking back into her chair.

Her mate smirked. “Li’l liar,” he scolded, shaking his head. “You shagged my brains out last night…several times after the President decided to scold us.”

“Yes, well…mortified.”

“Liar.”

Her eyes sparkled with sudden mischief as she indulged in a bite of syrupy pancakes. “Okay, so I’m not mortified over that part. It’s more the part where the entire building heard us.”

“You don’ seem to mind so much at home.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“Think it’s because you’re a hypocrite,” Spike retorted teasingly, plucking a sausage into his mouth.

“It’s the White House!”

“Yeh.”

“It’s the President of the United States!”

The vampire’s eyes were twinkling, and he shook his head in staunch disapproval. “’E’s jus’ a person, luv,” he scolded. “Jus’ like everyone else.”

“Yeah, except he’s the President.”

Something changed, then. They were no longer alone. The atmosphere around them plucked like the vibrato of a violin string. Buffy felt it. She felt the air change, and that knowledge scared her. The air changed with the weight of someone’s arrival, and she felt the shift in her surroundings as the woman entered the room.

“If my husband doesn’t know he’s the President by now, I’d have real reason to worry.”

Buffy and Spike turned at the same moment.

“Mrs. Bartlet,” the vampire said, nodding.

The Slayer shot to her feet on some instinctive urge.

“Oh, sit down,” Abbey Bartlet berated, waving a hand. “People stand when Jed enters the room and I find it rather ridiculous.” The comment earned dual grins from the First Lady’s houseguests. “You two don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

“Does it really matter what we say?” Spike asked.

“No, I just thought I’d be polite.” Abbey smiled and took her seat, setting her cup of coffee to the right of her preset plate. “What did Renee make today?”

“Pancakes, sausage, bacon, biscuits, hash browns, grits—”

The First Lady arched a brow. “You didn’t invite both houses of Congress over here to dine with you, did you?”

Buffy smiled sheepishly. “We didn’t know what we wanted. This is all a little much.”

“My lady’s not used to bein’ spoiled so richly,” Spike agreed.

That earned a tsk of disapproval. “Well, that’s a shame. Certainly you know, William, that every man who gets lucky enough to meet a good woman should spoil her richly every day to make sure she never forgets why she chose you in the first place.”

The Slayer rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Mrs. Bartlet. Sp—William spoils me more than any man ever should.”

“Not nearly rich enough, I’d wager,” he added with a grin. “An’ it’s Spike. This William business makes me feel like I oughta be sproutin’ sonnets.”

“Spike,” the First Lady retorted, arching her brows.

The vampire nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeh.”

Abbey turned to Buffy. “You’re fortunate you’re not my husband’s daughter. There is no way he would ever let Zoey date anyone who called himself Spike.”

A small smile drew across the younger woman’s face. “That’s the second time in twelve hours that I’ve been told I’m fortunate I’m not the President’s daughter.” She paused. “The first time was actually by the President himself.”

“I heard about that.”

The Slayer’s face flamed. “Oh. Well…I really don’t think it was as bad as the President might have—”

“No, I mean I heard about that.” The First Lady was grinning mercilessly, which only strengthened Buffy’s discomfort. “And, I must say, good for you.”

Spike smiled proudly.

“Th-thank you, Mrs. Bartlet,” his mate replied awkwardly.

Abbey chuckled and patted the younger woman’s hand. “There, there. I’m told everyone gets lucky in that room.”

“Told you,” Spike chided.

“Hush.” Buffy made a face at him and kicked at his leg.

The First Lady laughed again. “Ah, young love,” she said wistfully. “Just hope you two remember this after a century or two.”

The blondes froze and shot her identical deer-in-headlights glances.

The older woman smiled secretively. “Yes, I know.”

“The President’s jus’ tellin’ everyone?” Spike retorted incredulously.

“No, but he did tell me that you two were coming to stay with us, that he didn’t know how long you would be here, and he didn’t want me hitting the panic button when whichever one of you is the vampire asks for a nightcap of O Positive.” Her eyes settled on Spike. “Somehow, I think I’m talking about you.”

The Cockney’s eyes flickered. “Yeh?”

“Yes.”

“How you figure?”

Abbey shot him a look. “Well, aside the fact that you’re pale enough to blind an Eskimo and haven’t taken a breath in the past five minutes, you evidently have no qualms in treating me like other people instead of the First Lady.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “’S not outta disrespect.”

“No, I think it’s out of apathy. And that’s perfectly fine, considering you’re a hundred-forty-something-year-old dead man from Britain.”

Spike grinned. “Well, there’s that.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bartlet,” Buffy jumped in. “He’s…well, he’s Spike.”

“I’m a bad, crude, man,” the vampire agreed. “But the Slayer here’s star-struck at every bloody turn.”

Abbey shook her head. “Don’t be. Jed’s ego is already through the roof; he doesn’t need encouragement from his houseguests. Though I would recommend that your…private activities remain a tad more private than they were last night. I don’t like waiting up nights wondering if my husband is watching pornography.” She paused and tossed the vampire a sideways glance. “Though I have it on good faith that porn stars fake everything.”

Spike’s smirk broadened. “I’ve heard tale.”

“Something tells me you’ve done more than ‘heard tale.’”

The Slayer had a look about her like she wanted to slither under the table and die. “Mrs. Bartlet—”

“You know, Buffy,” Abbey said, eyes still fixed on the vampire. “He reminds me a lot of Jed when I first knew him. You should be careful of that.”

“Your husband was vulgar and horny?” Buffy eeped as she became the focus of two disbelieving stares. “I obviously didn’t mean what I said just there. That was a spell of temporary…something.”

“Oh no,” the First Lady replied. “He was. He still is, come to think of it.”

“Mrs. Bartlet!”

Spike threw his head back and laughed.

The older woman just smiled. “I was just saying, I’ve been married to a man that reminds me very much of your…what do you two call each other?”

“Mates,” the vampire responded. “We’re mates. It’s a sort’ve vampiric matrimony.”

“You don’t want to have a regular marriage?”

He shrugged lazily. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Buffy arched a brow. “We’re mated for all eternity, but marriage is too good for you?”

“I din’t say that, sweetling. I jus’ mean we haven’t talked about it.”

“Well, if we talked about it, what would you—”

Spike tossed her a look. “‘Jus’ say yes, an’ make me the happiest man on earth,’” he quipped.

“That was a spell.”

“I couldn’t mean it?”

“It was a spell! We weren’t even—”

“Buffy. Honestly, what do you want from me? What more do I have to do to—”

The First Lady cleared her throat. “As I was saying before you two forgot that I was here…you should be careful around this one, Buffy. I’ve been married to Jed for over thirty years, and he just gets ornerier with age.”

“Did you ever regret marryin’ him?” Spike asked softly.

She smiled wisely. “Never.”

He grinned at the Slayer. “There you are, darling. Proof that love like ours lasts generations.”

“Of that, I had no doubt.” Buffy turned back to the First Lady and relaxed slightly. “We aren’t keeping you from anything, are we?”

“Oh no,” Abbey replied. “Actually, I came here both at my husband’s request, and because I spoke with your friend, Willow, two nights ago, and she mentioned something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.” The tease left her eyes and she straightened appropriately, nodding her thanks at the server that entered the room to warm her coffee. “Buffy, your mother has been having severe headaches and dizzy spells for the past two weeks.”

The Slayer froze. “Are you being psychic or is this what Willow told you?”

“This is what Willow told me.” She paused. “I’m a doctor, Buffy. I’m a very good doctor.”

“Yes, but—”

“True, I don’t specialize in the sort of medicine that I believe your mother needs…or the tests that I believe should be run on her, but I have many friends in the field.” She paused again to let the words settle in. “Many, many good friends. I would like to recommend your mother to Dr. James Matheson. I’ve already spoken with him, and he was very willing to admit her before the weekend.”

Buffy was quiet for a long minute.

“I know this is hard,” Abbey continued. “But I would like to help in whatever way I can.”

Another long beat of silence.

Spike reached for her hand. “Buffy, luv,” he murmured, thumb caressing her skin soothingly. “’S all right. Jus’…it’s all right.”

Buffy knew it was all right. That was why she was stunned.

It was the first time anything had been truly all right in such a long while. She was captured in a state of perpetual disbelief. It took a few seconds longer for her to realize they were waiting for her to answer, and by the time she found words, she was all but overwhelmed with emotion.

“Oh…oh, thank you, Mrs. Bartlet.” She grasped the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m more than happy to do it.”

“It’s up to my mother, of course—”

“Something tells me that she won’t mind too much.” Abbey smiled. “I just wanted to let you know. As I understand it, I and the rest of the country are entirely in your debt for something that I’m still trying to get your President to tell me about.”

The Slayer flushed. “It was more Willow.”

“Yes, well, she told it the other way around.” The First Lady glanced up as someone else entered the room. “Charlie! How good of you to join us.”

“Chuck,” Spike appraised, earning a glare.

“Mrs. Bartlet,” the newcomer said, eyes on the vampire for a minute longer. “You have a phone call from the President of N.O.W. She wants to talk to you about the rider attached to 858.”

“And you’re coming to tell me this?”

“I was on my way. The President would like to see Buffy and William in his office.”

“Spike,” the vampire corrected begrudgingly.

“Ah. And so the true motive is revealed.” Abbey’s eyes sparkled as she rose to her feet. “My husband wants to butt in on my fun, and he’s using the President of N.O.W to distract me.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Charlie agreed.

“I thought so.” She turned back to her houseguests. “Buffy, Spike, it was a pleasure.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bartlet,” Buffy replied. “Thank you so much.”

“No thank you required, Ms. Summers, I am happy to be of help. I have connections, you need help, I want to do what I can.” She eyed the younger woman’s glowering companion. “Just make sure you keep this one on a leash.”

Spike scoffed. “No worries, there.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” Abbey smiled. “Now, if you would, excuse me. I’m sure Jed has something mind-numbingly tedious to grill you on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Charlie stepped aside as the First Lady made her exit, then turned back to the President’s guests. “I’ll be outside. The President urged me to tell you there was no rush, but I’m pretty sure he meant within ten minutes.”

The vampire nodded. “Right.”

It was only after they were alone again that Buffy thought to ask, “What did he mean…in the President’s office?”

Spike just grinned.

“What…I…” Her eyes went wide. “Oh God.”

“’S nothin’ big, sweetheart.”

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His smirk refused to wane. “You’re jus’ adorable when you’re all flustered.”

“You suck.”

“An’ well, but that’s not what we’re talkin’ about.”

“Spike!”

“Now, now, luv, don’ start that. We’re due in the Oval Office in ten minutes, after all.” He waggled his brows. “’Sides, I don’ think the President would fancy us soilin’ his dinin’ table.”

“Ugh.”

“Huh’s that?”

Buffy glared at him for a minute, then broke into a smile and glanced away. “You’re a bad influence.”

“The baddest, baby.”

“And we have to meet the President.”

“Did that already.”

“I’m trying to forget last night. Well…” She flushed off his look of mock-offense. “Just that part. The rest was amazing.”

“Bloody right.”

“But we have to be careful tonight.”

Spike just smiled and finished off his coffee. “Whatever you say, pet,” he replied. “Your wish is my bloody command.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.”

“Hey.” She frowned. “Your wish is my command, too.”

He barked a laugh and stood. “Come now,” he retorted. “We’re both smarter than that.”

“Are you saying I don’t give as much to—”

“Not at all. You love me. You’re my mate. We’re together.” He shrugged. “That’s all I need.”

There were so many times like this; times when he took her breath away without even trying. In everyday, casual conversation. He was a master of words. However many or few, he mastered them. And it only made her love him more.

He smiled that little smile that told her that he knew exactly what his spoken poetry could do to her. “Now then, sweetling,” he said, tugging her to her feet and brushing a kiss over her lips. “Let’s go. Somethin’ tells me bein’ rude to the President of the United States is not a good idea.”

“Agreed.”

“Besides, sooner we do this, sooner we can have a nooner.”

She giggled. “A nooner? At nine o’clock in the morning?”

“Any objections?”

She grinned cheekily. “Think the President will keep us long?”

He ran a hand down her arm. “Only one way to find out.”

“Guys,” Charlie said, poking his head into the room again. “The President wanted me to remind you, if necessary, that he has more effective ways than a hose to get you two to break up any post-breakfast hokey pokey.”

Buffy moaned, her head collapsing against Spike’s shoulder. Her mate rumbled his amusement, dropped a kiss across her brow, and nodded. “We’re comin’.”

“Not rightly soon enough,” the Slayer retorted in a badly feigned British brogue.

Spike chuckled. “I’ve been a bad influence on you.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Ahem.” Charlie did not look amused. “Seriously, guys, the President—”

Spike rolled his eyes, grasped his mate’s hand, and turned to face him fully. “You see us leavin’?”

“No, I see you standing in the President’s personal dining room about three seconds from giving Hugh Heffner material for the next ten issues of Penthouse,” he retorted. “Come on.”

The vampire sighed and shook his head. “Some people have no sense of adventure,” he muttered.

Buffy bit her tongue and grinned as they followed the aide through the residence.

Something told her this meeting with the President was the start of something big.

*~*~*

It was almost like stepping through a painting, being in the Oval Office.

“Donna and Willow have already called dibs on you two for lunch,” the President said as he navigated around the desk. “Seems I have the most popular houseguests in the District of Columbia. Do I want to know how you two gained such notoriety, or does last night speak for itself?”

Spike grinned proudly. “Think it’s better that you be the judge of that, right?”

“Damn straight.” The President glanced up. “Allow me to apologize again for neglecting to greet you last night. Our Russian Ambassador was being coy about her country’s missile silos.”

“I-I-It was no problem, Mr. President,” Buffy replied quickly. “I-I’m sorry again, for what happened last night.”

“Star-struck,” Spike muttered.

“Shut up.”

“Watch it. Mrs. Landingham doesn’t approve of that sort of language in the Oval Office.” The President grinned. “There are things I intend to grill you on later, make no mistake, but for now, I’m going to throw this on the table and let you all leave before you start to bother me. As you know, Christmas is in three weeks. I was wondering if you two would be interested in joining the First Family in New Hampshire for the holiday.” He paused. “Feel free to take a minute or two to think it over.”

Buffy was utterly flabbergasted.

So was Spike.

“Mr. President?”

“Yes, I did just invite you to stay with me, the President of the United States, and my family for the most revered holiday our country celebrates. Can I trust that you are dazzled enough to nod and say yes, so I may commence with the arrangements?”

“I…I…I…”

Spike nodded. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” The President smiled. “Now, go on and get out of here. And if you hear loud music playing in the foyer, feel free to ignore it. For whatever reason, Toby is feeling seasonally correct this year.”

“Scary,” Buffy murmured.

“You know Toby well,” Bartlet remarked. “Charlie will escort you to the bullpen and make sure you’re given the appropriate passes so the secret service don’t throw you out on your asses.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” the Slayer said automatically, tugging on her mate until they arrived at the door she was nearly certain they had come through.

Christmas with the First Family.

She had no idea how they had come this far.

“Breathe, baby,” Spike murmured, nodding to the elderly woman that sat opposite Charlie.

“We were just invited to spend Christmas with the President.”

“Yeh.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

He smiled. “It’s happenin’.”

Her eyes turned to the approaching bullpen, where Donna was waiting.

And then something extraordinary happened.

She knew this. She knew Donna. She could hear Toby yelling at someone from inside his office. Saw Sam speaking with Josh in the hallway. Saw Donna waiting for them. These people that were like family.

Spike squeezed her hand and smiled at her. And that was all she needed.

For that moment—for that anomaly in time—this foreign place almost felt like home.

Almost.

TBC