The battle with the Chumash spirits had several casualties. The picture window in the living room being one of them and several deep arrow marks in the front door that simply could not be repaired.
“I'm really sorry you guys.” Buffy said, helping Spike sweep up the broken glass. Tara stared forlornly at the empty window frame before turning and telling her not to worry about it.
Buffy felt awful, she just wanted to bring the party to them. It turned out she had brought a messy battle along with it.
But the turkey had been moist and the potatoes hadn't burned, she thought optimistically.
Giles had shown up at the house after the battle was over. He knocked politely at the door and Tara had answered. She stared at him for a few seconds and Spike came up behind her.
“'Lo again, Watcher. What brings you to this neck of the woods?” Spike wanted very much to ask him why exactly he should invite him into Spike's own home and what would persuade Spike to trust the Watcher. But Tara's voice always resounded in his head at times like these. They took on a sing-song tone that cried, 'Pe-e-etty.” So he restrained himself.
“Well, I was rather planning on apologizing for my behavior, which has pointed out to me and referred to as both childish and manipulative. And I would very much like to attend Buffy's party if she, and you both, would have me.” Giles kept his glasses on his face throughout the entire speech, but didn't manage to meet neither Spike nor Tara's eyes.
The house was silent for a few seconds and Spike spoke up, “Hullo, Watcher, I've come back but I've turned over a new leaf. I've given up the people-drinking and I'm all about the bag lunches now.” Spike offered his hand to the other man who blinked at him for a few moment s before taking it.
It then occurred to Giles that Spike was offering what he was seeking himself: a second chance. Giles smiled, “Welcome to the Hellmouth, Spike. I'm sure you'll feel right at home in no time.”
Over all, Buffy thought the dinner had come out unscathed and they could at least sit down and enjoy it in peace now. Xander was even feeling better.
Naturally, that's when the new, healthier Xander opened his big mouth and announced that Angel had been in town.
* * *
Buffy had half-heartedly cleaned up the kitchen. The only time she'd shown any reaction to anything was when either Spike or Tara attempted to help. Then they were scolded sharply and sent from the room. Spike had bounced like a startled cat the first time she shouted at him for picking up the steel wool. He just wasn't used to that reaction when he tried to wash the dishes.
“I know it's your house but tonight you're a GUEST! Go watch football with Xander!”
Buffy had some time to herself then, mostly because everyone was now afraid of her. She used it to think about Angel and the implications to him being back in Sunnydale, however briefly.
She decided that she was ever so pissed.
But that was just like him, wasn't it? He had to be in control all the time. He said when he could be there and when he couldn't.
Buffy had a very strong urge to go straight to L.A. and give Angel a piece of her mind.
Then she heard Spike loudly complaining about American Football and how they wore far too much equipment and stopped the bloody clock every thirty seconds and how on earth was that even considered a sport.
Buffy smiled, that warm fuzzy feeling she got whenever Spike was around consumed her. And she realized as she was drying the turkey pan, she had no desire to go to L.A. She wanted to eat pie and cuddle with Spike and watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.
And that's just what she did.
* * *
Spike had been more than a little worried about Buffy when Xander opened his gob and announced the Great Poof had been in town.
He'd sat in the living room with the others, wondering what she was thinking about in the kitchen.
He didn't actually go into the kitchen to see, mind, because he liked all his bits and pieces just where they were, thanks.
But when she came out again she was all smiles and she relaxed against him and they watched holiday specials and overate. And she seemed to be just fine.
At the end of the night she planted a kiss on him that made his toes curl and he figured she might not be rushing off to the Gelled One's arms any time soon.
* * *
Angel drove back to L.A in a furious mood. He had seen Spike, of course and had demanded of Willow in the Espresso Pump, exactly what he was doing there. And was with Buffy for that matter.
Willow had jubilantly described Spike's new diet and that he was helping Buffy and she told him far more than he wanted to hear about a girl named Tara.
He'd had half a mind to storm up to the front door and… well he really didn't have much of a plan beyond that.
But he really didn't think facing Buffy right now was a good idea.
And Willow had mentioned something about beating him to death with a shovel if he so much as threatened Spike or Tara and ruined Buffy's party.
Part of him was fuming at the audacity of his childe, making eyes at the Slayer of all people.
The other part of him was incredibly hurt that Spike hadn't come to him when he'd given up the evil game. He was the one with the experience with changing sides, he was Spike's family, not Buffy. If Spike should come to anyone for help with the changes he was going through, it should have been Angel.
Either way, he left Sunnydale wishing he'd never come at all.
* * *
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