Spike slipped out of bed early, Buffy was dead to the whole and the house was silent. He peeked in on Tara and Willow, still feeling paranoid about not realizing their absence yesterday meant something.
They slept peacefully, curled up together like kittens.
He headed downstairs for a shower and was surprised but not displeased to find a slumbering Xander on the couch, Comedy Central playing quietly on the big screen T.V. Xander had gone home immediately when they had left the mansion but he did have a key to the house. He must have come over the night before.
Spike continued on to the bathroom.
He turned the shower up as high as it would go and enjoyed the spray pounding down over his body. He loved bathing. He took baths as well, though not as frequently. Tara found him bath products at her favourite store that didn't smell too girly.
He shampooed and conditioned and scrubbed himself down with the sea salt soap Tara also provided. He rinsed off, humming The Ramones 'I Want to be Sedated”, and turned off the water.
When he pulled back a curtain, a figure loomed in the foggy mirror. Spike let out a yelp and slipped, landing with a painful smack on the tile.
Buffy burst through the door seconds later, wielding a very large hurling axe. Xander, Tara and Willow were right behind, avoiding said axe as the Slayer was still waking up.
Xander immediately shielded his eyes, “AAAhhh! What is it? What happened? And for God's sake cover up!”
Spike rubbed the back of his head and tugged a fluffy purple towel off the rack to preserve what was left of his modesty. He pointed shakily into the mirror, “That thing's possessed! There's no one else here!”
Buffy put down the axe and looked into the mirror. Then she looked back at Spike and then back into the mirror. The fog was clearing with the breeze from the open bathroom door and figure became obvious, “Spike! That's you! That's your reflection.”
Everyone copied her, staring into the mirror with fascination.
Spike got up and approached the glass. After regarding himself for a few seconds, he remarked, “I have blue eyes. I'd forgotten.”
Tara smiled and put an arm around him, “How long has it been since you've seen yourself?”
Spike thought for a second, Dru had been afraid of cameras. Angelus had had family portraits done once when he was first turned, “A while.”
He studied his features and his mouth twisted in disgust. He had forgotten how he looked. The ridiculous cheekbones hadn't gone away, of course. His lips still looked girlish and his eyelashes were still too long. He 'd forgotten how much he'd hated his own face. He smudged the remaining fog over the image and turned away, vowing to avoid his brand new reflection as much as possible, “How about breakfast, then? Since everyone's up?”
* * *
Buffy watched Spike exit in shock. He just got his reflection back for the first time in like a hundred years and he was all, “How about breakfast?”
Buffy had considered what she would do without the ability to examine her appearance and decided she would be worrying constantly if she had jam on her face or something. What if everyone was laughing at her hair and she had no idea? How did Spike even do his hair for all those years when he'd had it bleached and slicked back?
He didn't seem all that impressed, though. Buffy snorted, probably because he never needed to worry about his looks, he always looked perfect, stupid vampires and their perfect vampire skin. No pimples, no black heads, no wrinkle worries, no dark circles or bags under their eyes, must really be tough. Buffy wondered how Drusilla plucked her eyebrows. She must have had Spike do it for her. Buffy was willing to bet Drusilla had caterpillars on her forehead by now.
She didn't like thinking about Drusilla and Spike so she turned that part of her brain off and sat down at the island in the kitchen with Willow and Tara. Xander was pulling out the Cocoa Puffs box and eating the cereal dry in handfuls. Spike came back downstairs in jeans, shirtless and barefoot, “Have you seen my red sweater?”
“I think it's drying on the rack in the laundry room but it might still be wet.” Tara answered pulling a cookie out of the jar and munching.
Spike went to check and came back in a foul mood and stomped upstairs to find another shirt.
“What's his major malfunction?” Xander asked around a mouthful of chocolate cereal.
* * *
Spike passed the hall mirror on the way to his bedroom. He glanced in it.
That was a mistake.
He paused in front of it and ran his fingers down one arm. What did he have to be so skinny? He could almost close his hand over the thickest part of his upper arm.
All these insecurities had been forgotten for so long, they came back in full force.
He lifted his arms over his head and he could count his ribs. He shifted his pants down and he could see his hipbones.
And he was short. Xander and even Giles towered over him.
Admittedly, in the time he was born, he was actually tall compared to a lot of other men in his time period. But in this one, he was a shrimp.
And Buffy liked her men big.
He thought of Angel and the man she'd stared at in the yoga class, even that weird T.A that had accosted them on the bench. What did she even see in him?
He glared at his reflection. He wished he'd never seen it. Then he could have gone on in happy ignorance.
He vowed then and there to be what Buffy liked. He'd get one of those gym memberships and start taking supplements. There had to a way in this day and age. He didn't have to be a little rat of a thing forever. He didn't realize he was using Angelus' words.
He twisted away from the mirror and went to find a shirt. He wasn't going to be wandering around without one until he had something to show off.
* * *
When Spike came back down, he was wearing a huge faded hoodie with The Clash logo on it. Buffy raised one eyebrow. O.K.
Spike made a beeline for the fridge and heated up an extra large mug of blood.
“Do you want some pancakes, sweetie?” Tara asked from the stove, sensing he was upset about something.
Spike, aware that she was worrying needlessly, shook his head, “No, love, I'll have some eggs.” Spike strove to keep the strain out of his voice. There wasn't anything for them to worry about. He was going to fix this.
He put the stove on and filled a pot.
“O.K.” Tara remarked watching him start to boil half a dozen eggs, “Wow, you must be hungry.”
* * *
When everyone left, Xander for work, the girls for class, Spike started putting his plan into action.
He spent three hours at the gym, mimicking the largest bodybuilders. When he noticed one of them measuring his biceps with tape, Spike decided this was the best way to measure his progress.
He bought one when he visited GNC along with a bevy of protein and other muscle building mixtures and supplements. He also bought a notebook to record everything so he wouldn't slip up.
When he got home, he mixed up a foul tasting protein shake, plugged his nose and drank it down.
He then went upstairs and carefully measured every part of his body and recorded the numbers. Then he stood on the bathroom scale and glowered at the numbers. One hundred and sixty pounds. That was it.
That meant he only outweighed Tara by twenty-five pounds. He only outweighed Buffy by not all that much more, forty pounds maybe fifty? He didn't know but she was a lot thinner than she had been when he had first come to Sunnydale.
He vowed to bring those numbers up.
* * *
The Scoobies were having a movie night in an effort to distress from the Angelus situation and from finals that were rapidly approaching.
They'd chosen horror movies to mock rather than trying to find something meaningful and deep to concentrate on.
Buffy had chosen the one playing now, it was Pitch Black and it was thoroughly bad.
But Spike was tuned in to Buffy comments about Vin Diesel's bulging pectorals more than the plot.
She confused him. He picked up nothing but affection towards him from her. But she liked actors like this. So she was willing to love him despite how he looked. His heart pulsed with love right back. He had to make himself better for her. She deserved better.
* * *
|
