The Body – Chapter 7 – Getting to Know You
With the oddest look on her face, Buffy handed the receiver back to Spike.
“What the hell did you say to her, Spike?” Angel roared. “If you called here to cause trouble, I swear I’ll…”
“You’ll what, you wanker? Throw a hissy fit?” Spike snapped, worried about both of his girls. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the Bit.”
“Dawn fainted, you idiot. I want to know exactly what you said to her that caused her to hit the floor.”
Covering the phone, Spike whispered to Buffy before handing the phone back to her. With a smile, she brought the receiver back to her ear and repeated: “Dawnie.”
“Buffy? Is it really you?” Angel found himself truly stunned. Never in a million years had he expected Spike’s blind faith to actually pay off.
“F-first try,” she managed. Then, wearily, she handed the phone back to Spike.
Smiling at Buffy, Spike proceeded to rib Angel mercilessly. “Happy now, Poof? I told you I didn’t say anything to shock the little one’s socks off. ‘Course I didn’t mention her sister might’ve.”
“It’s not that I’m not pleased beyond measure that Buffy’s come back to us, so don’t take this the wrong way, Spike, but what’s the matter with her? She sounds… wrong.” Angel’s voice caught in his throat as he contemplated the worst. “It’s not brain damage, is it? From the injury or the coma?”
Taking pity, Spike did his best to dispel the fear he could practically taste through the phone line. “Doc says it’s temporary… a couple days at most ‘til her speech improves. It’s already better than it was this morning.”
Taking comfort in Buffy’s presence relaxed him enough to explain her condition further: “The rest is a bit rougher, mate. You remember what she looked like when you were here last? She’s not much changed from that. It’s goin’ to take some time to build herself back up, so I’m hopin’ you’ll be able to keep the Niblet a little while longer.”
“You know how unfair that is? And probably impossible. She’s going to insist on seeing her sister as soon as possible.”
Spike snorted. “You think I don’t know that? You’re goin’ to have to keep a close eye on that one. She tends to try and slip out in the middle of the night when she thinks nobody’s lookin’.”
“Then how can you ask me to keep them apart?”
“And how can you ask Buffy to subject herself to the pity brigade? She’s barely talking, bed bound to boot, and worried about scarin’ the bloody hell out of everyone until she packs on a couple of pounds. Girl’s got a right to preserve her dignity.”
“Shit. Just… shit!” Angel found himself at a total loss for words. A vampire who could wax eloquent on any given subject, came to a loss at this. “I’ll do the best I can, Spike… but you’d better explain things to Dawn yourself. She’s insisting on talking to you.”
It sounded like Dawn snatched the phone from Angel’s hands. “Oh my God! She’s… she’s… back! Oh, Spike! Can I talk to her again? Please?” Dawn wheedled, needing confirmation that her sister was indeed back amongst the living.
“Dunno if she’s up to talking again, Bit, but we can try. Hold on now,” Spike said after careful thought. He handed the phone back to Buffy.
She smiled. “Love y-ou,” she managed. “Sorry…”
“Pet,” Spike cut in, taking the phone from Buffy’s lax fingers. “She’s exhausted. Speakin’s hard for Sis at the moment. I promise she’ll call you back as soon as she’s up to it.”
“I’m coming home, Spike. I have to see her.”
Spike’s heart ached as he tried to explain how that wouldn’t be a good idea. “Sweet Bit, don’t do this,” he asked quietly. “I know you want… need, to see Buffy, but she’s not in a good way right now. You’ve got to give her a little time to come back to herself. She’s been gone for such a long time…”
“She’s not worried about how she looks, is she? Please!”
Spike laughed. “Of course she is, pet. But it’s much more’n outer looks. You have to try and understand that Buffy wants to be more herself before seein’ anyone, so’s she can talk to you good and proper, not stuck in her bed.”
Dawn sniffled, trying to control her disappointment. “But I’m not just anyone, Spike. I’m her sister. It should make a difference.”
“Pet, it does. For you more’n anyone. She doesn’t want to scare you,” Spike stubbornly insisted, though he knew the teenager wouldn’t really believe him. “If she can manage the words, you want to hear it from Buffy?”
“I-it would hurt her to tell me to stay away, wouldn’t it?” Dawn suddenly felt way older than her years. “I don’t want her to hurt anymore because of me. Tell her I’ll wait for her call, Spike. Tell her I love her.”
“I promise, Bit. Even if it’s just a few words, you’ll hear from big Sis tomorrow. Tell Peaches the same.”
Buffy curled her hand around Spike’s when he hung up the receiver, fairly sure hurting her younger sister had been exceptionally hard on the vampire. “Be okay, Spike,” she said, feeling her words coming back moment by moment now. “Summers women… are tough.”
Spike smiled at her through unshed tears, not caring about exposing his tender side to her any longer. “Yeah, luv. That they are. Turn Big Bad vampires into mush, they do.”
Buffy turned on her side and patted the mattress beside her. “Rest now, big bad mush.”
What else could a willing slave to do? Spike crawled into bed, gently pulling Buffy up close against his body as they fell asleep.
Judging by the light coming through the curtains, it was past noon when Spike woke up – alone. A quick glance around the room found Buffy sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed. Apparently she’d managed to shower and change her clothes. Her hair, however, remained wet and hung loose, the moisture being absorbed by a towel draped around her shoulders.
“Morning, lazy vampire.” She smiled. Then, pointing to her wet hair, asked, “Do… favor?”
It wasn’t perfect, but her speech sounded like the purest poetry to Spike’s ears. He got out of bed and went to her side, unable to stop himself from touching her. “Bloody hell, pet. Listen to you. Look at you! One day an’ you’re movin’ an’ talkin’ like a bleedin’ miracle.” He shook his head in awe. “You want the blow dryer or the towel for your hair?”
“Towel and brush?”
“Your wish is my command, luv,” he said, as he briskly began to towel dry her hair. It was so much easier with her sitting up. So much more rewarding, too, when she closed her eyes and leaned in to the brush strokes as he gently untangled her tresses.
Soon her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that wouldn’t get in her way. “Gorgeous, Slayer, if I must say so myself,” Spike approved. “Now, how’d you like a lift downstairs for a little brekkie, Spike style?”
“Why?”
“Why what, Slayer? Why breakfast? Just thought you might be hungry after sleepin’ all night. Gotta do my best to fatten you up.”
She shook her head. The look in her eyes told him she needed to know the answers to her question. “No. Why help me? Why you? Just you?”
Uh oh… here it comes. Buffy brain switches back on and old Spike gets kicked to the curb “Well, I’m the one with the most time on my hands, pet,” he stalled. “And haulin’ your featherweight carcass from bed to bath wasn’t a problem.”
“But why? Why stay?” Buffy repeated, looking frustrated at having to repeat herself yet again. “Not friends,” she said, pointing at Spike. “Not nice,” she said, pointing at herself. “I die… you brag, three Slayers, gone. Who know… you not kill?”
Spike stood floored. She really had no clue as to how much he cared for her, did she?
He stalled again. “Can we save this discussion for a time when you no longer sound like Tonto and I’ve gotten a decent breakfast into you?” he pretended to grumble, squirming just a little under her scrutiny.
“No You… save me, Spike. Tell me now. Short version fine.”
Spike rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Short version, right? Why I stayed and helped? Just remember, pet. You asked, I’m tellin’. You don’t get to hit me for tellin’ the truth this time.”
After a pause, Buffy nodded in agreement,
“I stayed because Dawn needed someone who believed you’d come back. She needed someone she could count on. I stayed because I love you.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “No! No love me!” she insisted. “No soul, no love. Told you before.”
“You can tell me that until you’re blue in the face, Slayer, and I’ll tell you it’s not true until my heart starts beating again. Vampires. Can. Love. An’ if it’s not most vampires, then this vampire certainly can.” He strode over to Buffy and raised her chin with his fingertips. “Get this through your head, you stubborn bint. I loved Dru for well over a hundred years, and it took you for that to change. When I tell you I love you, I bloody well mean it.”
Buffy groaned, holding her hands up in defeat. She just didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Neither could she argue the fact that he was there, helping her, no matter what she thought. “Okay, fine. You believe. You help. Enough for now.”
That’d have to do, Spike thought unhappily. For now. At least she didn’t demand that he leave her alone and never darken her threshold again. “No more fightin’, pet. Time for eating, and then we’ll call the Watcher. Kick this show into high gear.”
Buffy made her careful way from the kitchen to the livingroom, at first leaning on the wall, then grabbing onto whatever furniture she could grasp. She had no rhythm to her gait, but at least she wasn’t crawling. As Spike said, it’d only been one day.
She gave Spike an unhappy glance as he reached for the phone. “I’m only goin’ t’call the Watcher, pet,” he reassured her. “We’ll take this slow, like. Not too many wankers to deal with at once.”
He left the same message at both The Magic Box and at Giles’ home: “Call me back as soon as you get this message. Spike.” Plain and simple… no chance to be misunderstood.
Right. He sighed as he hung up the phone, imagining all the ways that this could go wrong.
Two hours later, when Giles and the rest of the Scooby gang walked into the house, Spike wasn’t in the least bit surprised.
“When did she pass on, Spike?” Giles asked quietly. He’d obviously been crying, as had the rest of the little minions. “We’d like to see her before making final arrangements.”
Balls! Buffy was going to be furious. “Let me make sure she’s decent before you come up.”
“Like you’d know from anything decent, Fangless,” muttered Xander.
Willow hissed under her breath: “Not. The. Time, Xan.”
They heard Spike’s summoning whistle and sadly climbed the stairs for what they knew was the last time.
The outraged gasps heard from everyone when they saw Spike sitting on the bed with Buffy pulled flush against his body were almost enough to make the vampire burst out into laughter.
“Spike, you must let her go, man. This surely isn’t healthy – not even for a vampire. She’ll have to be buried…” Giles made as if to take his Slayer from the vampire’s arms – and Buffy played her hand.
“Hey, Giles,” she waved weakly, more a wriggling of her fingers than a full fledged wave. “Tales of death a b-bit early.”
“Holy mother of Pearl!” Xander’s astonishment rendered him momentarily immobile. Then, with a great flurry, he and everyone else converged on the bed.
Spike felt Buffy stiffen in his arms as they all drew near, and knew she would bolt if she could. His sub vocal growl reverberated throughout the room and stopped everyone in their tracks.
“Hey, Fangless. Enough of the watchdog routine.” Xander swaggered over to Spike’s side of the bed, fully intent on dragging the vampire off the bed. “Why don’t you go away now and let her friends get close?”
This time Spike tensed up, and his growling intensified. It took Buffy’s hand on his arm to restrain him and keep him from attacking.
“Stay, please,” she whispered in his ear, desperately hoping to avoid a confrontation. Turning to her friends she said: “Back off. Sit down. Spike stays with me.”
“Buffy, dear,” Giles tried. “We’ve missed you so terribly much. You’ll have to understand that…”
“That’s the problem,” she cried. “Don’t understand. Spike, vampire, stayed to help. You, friends… where have you been?”
And in answer to that, the silence was deafening.
The Body – Chapter 8 – Forget Me Not
Spike stroked the side of Buffy’s face, trying to keep her calm. “Give me a minute, pet. Let me try and get things sorted.”
He turned to Giles, ignoring the scowling man hovering over him. “Why’d you call the bleedin’ pack to arms? I asked you to call me back, nothing else.”
The elder man flushed, not used to being called out by the vampire. “I-I was just so sure that the only reason we’d hear from you would be…”
“Be what, Giles?” Buffy’s eyes blazed in her too small face. “You think me good as… dead?”
“Dear girl,” he began again, finding it most difficult to come up with the words. He’d already begun to mourn her passing and was having a hard time with the realization that she was alive, if not entirely well.
Nudging Spike aside, she pushed back the blanket and slowly staggered to her feet. “Look at me, Giles,” she demanded softly. “When did you last see me?”
It had been so long, Giles actually had to count back in his head. Lying wasn’t an option. He was sure Spike knew to the exact minute the last time he’d visited, and would call him on it.
He tried to explain himself. “It’d been very difficult, watching you lie there, losing so much of yourself as the weeks went by. The hospital sent you home with the firm belief that you were not going to recover.”
With a stubborn tilt of her chin, Buffy stared her Watcher down. “Not an answer, Giles. How. Long?”
“Nearly three months, I’m afraid,” he said quietly, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m not proud of it Buffy… I’ve been in active mourning since your… accident.”
The sound of feet pounding up the stairs caught everyone’s attention. As one, they turned their attention to the door.
“Accident, my ass,” Dawn yelled as she burst into the room, glaring at the crowd of people gathered there. “Buffy didn’t have an accident. She was ambushed because of all of you. You took away her protection. You insisted she patrol alone.”
She turned her accusing eyes on Spike. “You begged me to stay away because it was too hard for Buffy, but suddenly everyone else is here? She’s my sister. I have a right to be here. Not any of them.”
“Dawn…”
Buffy’s soft voice worked like magic, startling away her sister’s anger for a moment. She shuffled haltingly over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the teen’s waist, hugging her gently. “Don’t be scared. Still me, here.”
“I-I’m not scared, Buffy.” Dawn sniffled into her older sister’s bony shoulder. “You forget I’ve seen you without makeup in the morning. That’s scary.”
The teen gently urged Buffy back towards the bed, sitting on her left side, unwilling to be far from her side after so long apart. Spike took up his place at her right hand side.
“I didn’t start off calling anyone but the Watcher, Niblet. Trust me, I didn’t set out to make a circus of all this. It’s too much for big Sis, but… they’re here, an’ we might as well deal with them all at once.” He reached out to take Dawn’s hand. Buffy slipped her own hand into the mix, and lay with the three held clasped in her lap.
Spike shook Dawn’s hand gently. “And just how the bloody hell did you get here? Angel promised to keep you safe until -”
Dawn blushed, remembering the screaming hissy fit she’d thrown until Angel caved in to her demands. “Um… after telling him I’d find a way to get home with or without his help, he asked his friend Gunn to drive me. At least this way he’d know I got home safe.”
Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “A girl after my own heart, you are. Can’t say I’m not glad to see you.” He smiled. Both his girls were home and safe. It didn’t get much better for him.
“Uh… hate to break up this little slumber party, girls, but we were in the middle of an important discussion when the Dawnster showed up.” Xander wasn’t at all happy seeing Spike so up close and personal with the Summers girls. Even though he knew Spike had been alone with Buffy for months, not having to watch them… together… had made denial easy.
“Okay, fine. My call.” Buffy felt the need to be in control of this madness; where her mortal enemy was her savior and her friends were unknown quantities. “Giles… gave up on me?”
Looking deeply ashamed, Giles faced the girl he’d considered to be his daughter head on. “Yes, God forgive me. After five months of hoping and praying that you’d awaken, I gave up. I-I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he said, his whole demeanor honestly begging for forgiveness.
Buffy had already refocused her attention. “Xander… you give up, too?”
“I wish I could have stayed with you, Buff.” He tried to meet her gaze but couldn’t hold the contact. “But while Fangless had all the time in the world on his hands, I had my job, and other obligations, and Anya, and… and… life went on,” he said, throwing his arms in the air helplessly.
“Not mad you have life, Xander. I understand. But you call Spike, right?” she asked hopefully. “See that I’m still here?”
His silence condemned him and Buffy tightened her grip on the hands she held, upset at discovering how quickly she’d been forgotten.
Buffy felt as if she’d fallen through the looking glass. Her head hurt from trying to remain awake and think for the first time in forever, the tension in the room and the hostility aimed at Spike was growing by the second, and nobody was acting like they should.
So many things were on her mind. “Need to thank you all,” Buffy managed, rubbing her temples to ease the headache that was getting worse by the moment, “for… paying bills. For saving house for me and Dawn.”
Still more silence from the group, and they were looking decidedly uneasy now, shifting back and forth on their feet, looking anywhere but directly at her. Buffy frowned. They… they hadn’t…
“Anyone call Spike to check on me?” she pushed, glancing around the room, her voice rising with each question. “Anyone come to help, to give Spike a… break? Anyone patrol?”
With a heartbreaking little squeak, Buffy asked one final question: “Anyone remember me at all?” before passing out in her sister’s arms.
Dawn caught and rocked her. At Spike’s alarmed look, she motioned that he should go. He, in turn, gestured for them all to leave the room silently; knowing Buffy was in the best of hands for the time being.
Willow was the first to speak once they’d reached the livingroom. “Goddess, she looks like a Holocaust survivor.”
With preternatural speed, Spike grabbed the little redhead by the arms and shook her. “Don’t. You ever. Talk. ‘Bout that woman in anything less than glowin’ terms, Red.”
Each time he shook Willow to punctuate his words, Spike flinched in pain, the chip firing over and over again until a small stream of blood trickled from his nose. Before his anger could escalate further, Giles wrested the out of control vampire away from Willow, while Tara cuddled and soothed the frightened girl.
“You’re damned lucky I’ve taken your obvious exhaustion into account, Spike, and didn’t stake you out of hand.” Giles was livid, shaking the vampire in much the same way as he’d shaken Willow moments before. “If you ever lay so much as a finger on…”
The sensation of cool liquid on his finger stopped the elder man’s rant mid-sentence.
“Blast!” he spat. “Xander, help me get Spike to the couch. Tara, if you’d be so kind…”
“Ice cubes, c-cold water and washcloths,” the quiet woman finished for him, going to collect the aforementioned items.
“Maybe he’s finally fried his brain,” Xander offered dryly, half-hoping and half-joking. “Or it’s some kind of karma, like a cosmic price paid for Buffy coming out of her coma – the bleached wonder slips into one.”
Spike moaned and stirred in Giles’ arms. “You wish, droopy boy,” he spluttered through the blood dripping from his nose. Droplets sprayed into the air. “It’d take more’n that bloody chip to put me out.”
Tara kneeled beside the bleeding vampire, tilting his head back gently and handing him a wrapped ice cube to hold on the bridge of his nose. As she wiped the blood gently from his face and neck, she sighed.
“You know the only reason you’re not a vampire toad right now is I know you really didn’t mean to hurt Willow, did you?”
Spike had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, Glinda. Just…”
“Hush now, Spike,” she soothed. “Let somebody else talk for a change.” The soft smile she gave him took the sting out of her words. “You’ve been one hundred percent focused on Buffy for a long time, haven’t you? And with her finally awake, she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, isn’t she?”
Spike nodded his head, amazed at the girl’s insight. It’d been a long time since someone had taken the time to see what he’d truly thought or meant. It both scared and delighted him.
“You have to know Willow didn’t mean anything bad by what she said. It was just an observation, and you know it’s been far too long since any of us have been here. You’ve been here every single day for all these months. Perspectives are different, Spike. You need to understand.”
Tara removed the ice cube, and with a final swipe of the washcloth, was pleased to note the nosebleed had stopped. She brushed a few errant curls back from the vampire’s forehead and spoke quietly – intimately – sharing something precious and rare with him. “We all love her, Spike. Nobody wished her dead. You’ll just have to forgive us; we’re only human, after all.”
Willow, Xander, and Giles stood there in shock. They’d never heard so many words from Tara’s mouth at one time before.
Whatever spell she wove, Spike was much calmer when Tara walked away. “Thank you, luv,” he whispered, knowing that she heard him – and understood.
He stood to go back upstairs, to Buffy and Dawn, when Giles laid a hand on his shoulder; unasked questions obvious in the man’s face.
Ah, God. Not yet. “Later, Watcher,” he asked wearily. “I’m tired an’ I need to check on the Slayer an’ Niblet.”
Halfway up the stairs he turned and addressed them all: “See yourselves out, lock the door behind you. Call tomorrow an’ I’ll answer whatever other questions you might have.” And with that, he headed up the remaining steps without another word.
Dawn wandered through her house, trying to get a feel for it after being away for nearly six weeks. It felt good to be home, if even for a little while. She knew there were no options – she’d be heading back with Angel either that evening or in a few days.
Buffy needed time to recover; Dawn could see that now. They’d talk on the phone at least once a day, if not more often. Soon… soon they’d be back together again. The two Summers girls. And with any luck at all…
Hello! What’s this? Rooting around in the desk by the front door, Dawn came across a soft grey leather checkbook cover caught her eye. Peeking inside, she saw one name written over and over again, and wondered who William Bennett was. Skimming through the register, she figured it out and ran upstairs, clutching the checkbook in her hand.
Standing by the door, Dawn rapped the checkbook against the door and tapped her foot, waiting for Spike’s reaction.
He eased away from Buffy, attempting to leave the room and meet Dawn’s questions out of earshot, but it was not to be.
“This is yours, isn’t it, Spike? Part of all that stuff Angel brought over when he picked me up, right?”
“Keep it down, pet,” he shushed. “Sis needs her sleep.”
“I will not! She deserves to know who’s been taking care of her all these months. I can’t believe nobody said different when she thanked them for paying our bills. And you allowed it!” The teenager smacked Spike in the chest, annoyance radiating off of her lanky frame. “For such a blabbermouth, when did you develop such a case of lockjaw?”
Buffy groaned, attempting a full body stretch and only half heartedly succeeding. “Should sleep more often,” she yawned, looking at the guilty pair by the door. “Hear very interesting things.”
“Please, pet… you have to understand I didn’t want to upset you.” Spike said, flustered. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about everything he did behind the scenes to keep her safe.
“No lies, Spike. No hiding.” Buffy was adamant. There had been too much that made no sense to her at all, and she wouldn’t take being kept in the dark any longer. “Makes no sense. You save me. You care for me. You pay bills. You, you, you! Where you get money? Steal it?”
Spike was incensed. Of course she’d think the worst of him. “I bloody well did not steal it. Just because I mooch off you lot don’t mean I have none of my own.” He snorted, throwing his head back with a sharp bark of laughter. “Been around a long time, luv. Angelus might’ve been a right bastard, but he knew his way around money. He took William’s meager stash and invested it along with his own. Could say I’m wealthy enough in my own right to be comfy for another couple hundred years.”
“Truth? Honest truth, Spike?” she whispered, unable to believe that Mr. Hands Out was a wealthy vampire.
“Least you couldn’t refuse my help when you were unconscious, Slayer. It’s all mine, honest earned. It’s what you deserved, innit? My best.”
Buffy held out her arms, beckoning the vampire to sit next to her on the bed. She gripped his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Don’t understand you, Spike,” she sighed, unable to comprehend all that’d gone on in her absence. “But I want to. Tell me everything.”
Looking into her eyes, he could see he’d get away with nothing – no lies, no more secrets, nothing but the plain truth. “All right, love,” he sighed. “But remember, you asked for it…”
The Body – Chapter 9 – To Walk A Crooked Mile
One Month Later
Glancing at herself in the mirror, Buffy was fairly well pleased with what she saw. She had actual breasts and hips once more. Gone was the walking cadaver look she’d sported when she’d first awakened. She’d even passed the Calista Flockhart starving-for-Hollywood actress stage.
Her skin was flushed pink and sweaty from her heavy exercise session. No musical accompaniment… Spike would be ticked off if he knew she were pushing herself that hard again. But it was just a step routine, even if it did feel brutal on her newly re-developing muscles.
She had to watch it around Spike, even though all he wanted was the best for her. Her vampire taskmaster had worked hard with Lynette Marcus in developing her physical therapy routine. But, knowing Buffy, once Lynette had gone home, Spike had added to the routine by half again, understanding that she’d be pushing for more.
However, even Spike had underestimated her drive to return to pre-accident form, and in defiance she snuck in extra aerobic and cardio-vascular routines whenever he slept.
With the workout finished, she’d just run upstairs for a quick shower, and he’d never –
The sound of clapping from the staircase sent an eerie sense of uh-oh skittering along her nerves.
“Did you really think I was clueless, pet?” Spike drawled as he came down. “That I didn’t know you’ve been sneakin’ extra workouts when my back was turned?”
She tried for the innocent look. “Ummmm… sorry?”
“Bollocks!”
He looked personally insulted, but she guessed she could understand why. In the past month, she’d put on about twelve pounds of soft, squishy flesh. Every time she turned around, Spike was trying to shovel plates full of fattening goodness at her. She just might have to gag him if she heard ‘eat hearty’ one more time. Random wicked Buffy thought: I just might gag him anyway! Bad Buffy!
Still, Spike insisted she needed to gain another twenty pounds. When they danced – so called now because to her, it wasn’t anywhere near enough to fighting to be called sparring or training – he’d constantly taunt her with ‘chicken bone’ jokes. Tell her she had to gain more weight so he’d have something to grab onto in a real tussle.
Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she’d be happy if she could gain and maintain another ten, maybe fifteen pounds. Holding onto weight was never an easy thing for her. Slaying and her super-active metabolism used to consume far too many calories to be considered healthy, and her lousy eating habits hadn’t helped.
She flashed him a mischievous grin. The moment he’d reached the bottom of the staircase, she attempted to run past him, not in the mood for another overexertion lecture. Buffy was feeling more fit and motivated than she had in a long time and was determined to continue with doing things her own way. She’d listen to her own intuition and to hell with everyone else. Even, on occasion, Spike.
Spike’s arm flashed out as she attempted to pass, catching her around the hips. He grinned like he’d discovered buried treasure. “Slayer, I’m impressed! You’ve passed the chicken-butt mark and moved on to girl-butt.” He emphasized his observation with a pinch.
“Pig!” she tossed back at him, wiggling free and waggling her duly-noted girl-butt in his direction as she continued up the stairs. She managed not to giggle. Oh yes, lately there was fun to be found in the smallest things.
She knew she could count on the sight of her luscious bottom making its way up the stairs being enough to make Spike add to the calorie count in his head for tonight’s dinner, and to her delight, her joyous mood seemed to give him an inspired idea. “What would you say to a four cheese lasagna with lots of garlic bread tonight… and a phone call to the Platelet, askin’ her back home to stay?”
Buffy squealed with joy. Lately, even thrice daily phone calls weren’t enough to satisfy her craving for family. A quick “Yes!”, and she was off to the shower while the vampire began the preparations for dinner. They’d call Dawn soon, together. It seemed like all of her decisions were made jointly those days.
Strange, though. She didn’t feel diminished in the slightest. Leaning on anyone was a new experience for her – but leaning on Spike was a learning experience. At first, it was out of necessity. There were just some things she couldn’t do by herself. The last week or so, however, she could sense a change. He pulled back. Not away – never far from her – but just far enough that she was able to rely on her own strengths more and more. Each joint decision made her stronger and seemed to shore her up.
Oddly enough, she didn’t really miss her old friends or their opinions as much as she’d thought she would. She had never realized just how overpowering and judgmental they’d become until she had someone who was willing to actually listen to her.
Spike asked her how she felt, and listened to her answers. He helped her when she asked for it, usually backed off when she didn’t need it, and made a general pain in the ass of himself in-between. She’d miss him terribly if he just up and left.
For certain, he’d been her savior, then her biggest supporter, and finally her partner – an equal, if she had to be honest with herself. She’d begun to think of herself and Spike as a couple. The problem was… a couple of whats?
What exactly was Spike to her? Maybe – partners? That was such a limiting word, though. Father Confessor? She had to giggle at that thought… but it was true, all the same. They’d spent countless hours over the last month talking about her absent family and friends, disappointments, and heartaches. They’d mapped out exercise routines and discussed hopes for her total recovery.
She’d worked on her speech until Spike finally had to tell her to shut up, shocking them both at the time. Connecty speech-brain Buffy had officially returned in full force.
Trying the word family on for size… someone to count on no matter how bad things got? Well, that was closer… but it was a little wiggy when her Bad Buffy ™ side took over. She had some very non-family thoughts about the blond vampire. Something she really needed to stop having before…
Buffy turned on the shower full blast and stripped off her clothing, promising herself the laundry would soon get done. She could always sneak in another session while the machine’s noises hid hers. Armed with a plan, she stepped into the stall, hoping to cleanse her muddled mind as well as her stinky body.
Standing under the showerhead, Buffy raised her head and her arms to greet the spray, relishing the heat and pounding of the water. She lowered her head and moved forward, allowing the water to fall on her aching neck and back muscles.
Her bathgel was in easy reach. Buffy uncapped the container, inhaling her newest favorite: ginger/lily, and poured a dab on her puff sponge. As she began to wash herself, she thought about what Spike had shared with her – about all the things he’d bought over the months of her recuperation: candles, incense, body oils, shampoos, gels, and moisturizers – all designed to awaken the senses.
His sensual assault hadn’t stopped upon her revival, either. Meals were spicier and more flavorful than the fruity yogurts that used to make up her whole diet. Lots of peppers, onions, and hot sauces seasoned Spike’s creations. Who’d’ve thought the Big Bad would have turned out to be such an excellent cook?
Even more, the house was filled with flowers on a weekly basis. Bouquets of roses, lilacs, honeysuckle graced every room, making the place smell like a florist’s shop.
But best of all, Spike’s nightly massages were still just that side of heaven. If there was a heaven. Her arms, legs, neck and back were covered in fragrant oils and pounded and kneaded into submission. No knot dared remain in her entire body by the time he was done with her.
A long, throaty, drawn out moan snapped Buffy from her reverie. Quickly coming to her senses, she realized that moan had come from herself. Thinking about Spike and his strong fingers on her, molding her, massaging her, had apparently led to the unconscious kneading of her own breasts. She’d dropped the puff somewhere along the way, and was alternating between stroking the small globes of soapy flesh with her hands and the occasional rolling pinch to her engorged nipples with her fingers.
The more she tried to stop thinking about Spike, the more firmly entrenched pervy thoughts of the blond vampire became. The strength in his hands, the feel of his cool skin against her warmer flesh, the solid feel of his magnificent torso as she collapsed, exhausted, against him after a workout.
Without her permission, her hands took on a life of their own and began to travel southward, rubbing soapy circles over her belly and smooth thighs.
In a maneuver that proved she’d regained her vaunted Slayer flexibility, Buffy raised her right leg, slowly, resting her foot about head level on the wall. When she was sure her left leg was locked and stable, she let go of the handrail Spike had installed, reaching once more for the bathgel.
Quickly lathering her hands, Buffy slid her fingers down her belly, through her coarse curls, and gently ran her fingertips over her outer lips, using just enough pressure to set off a low tingle of pleasure in her abdomen. With each successive pass of her fingers, she applied more pressure, until her fingers parted her folds, sliding knuckle deep into her body’s slick opening.
Her right hand set a demanding rhythm, bringing wave upon wave of deep seated yearning her body had long been denied. With the pad of the middle finger on her left hand, she began rubbing small circles over her clit, ramping up her pleasure immeasurably.
Eyes closed, head thrown back, it only took a few more strokes before Buffy screamed her pleasure aloud. Grabbing onto the rail for support, she lowered her leg and sat down in the tub, allowing the water to wash away the evidence of her release from her hands and the suds off of her body. She was breathing quickly, and had to say… look out, world… Bad Buffy™ was fast becoming her new bestest friend.
As she slowly came back to herself, Spike burst into the bathroom.
“You all right, luv?” he asked, panic evident in his voice. “Heard you callin’ out for me.”
“No!” Buffy shrieked, holding onto the shower curtain in case he decided to pull it back. “I-I’m fine, Spike. Honest. Just got some soap in my eye and it stung. See?” she said, sticking her head out of the shower, hoping that would satisfy her would-be savior.
Yeah, right. She was flushed and breathing hard, and the aroma of her climax was hardly disguised by the hot water and soap, even to her nose. This could prove to be embarrassing. She prayed fervently that he’d have a little tact for a change.
“Beautiful you are, pet. Nice and squeaky clean,” was all he said. “Finish up with your hair and we’ll make the call to the Poof. See if we can get little Sis home this evening in time for dinner.”
Buffy waited until he’d closed the door behind him, then hopped out of the shower and locked the door. Her cheeks were still burning. She couldn’t believe she’d called out his name as she climaxed. Stupid vampire hearing! Thank God he hadn’t caught her in the middle –
Quickly washing and rinsing her hair, she turned off the rapidly cooling water and toweled herself dry. A quick peek out the door led to a towel-clad dash across the hall to her room. While it would have made sense to use her mother’s en-suite bathroom, Buffy still felt like an interloper amongst Joyce’s things. In her mind, she’d only been gone for a couple of months, not more than a year.
She dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a red ribbed baby-t. A fast session with the blow-dryer, and Buffy pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Using nothing but a little moisturizer on her face, she was ready to greet the world. Spike, anyway. After how he’d seen her, makeup seemed a little unnecessary..
How he’d seen her... How he saw her now. Spike had admitted his feelings for her over and over again, by word and deed, and Buffy was having a hard time refuting the evidence. She had to admit it, at least to herself: Spike loved Buffy. Unsouled Spike the vampire loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
How could she do that again? “Very easily,” shouted Bad Buffy™. “Just look at that gorgeous hunk of vampire. And we do remember that shower, don’t we?”
Oh, that was just so wrong! She was only twenty one years old and had already lived and lost what she’d thought of as the grand passion of her life… Angel. A souled vampire – until she screwed the soul right out of him. The thought of what could go wrong with an unsouled, chipped vampire should have scared the hell out of her. Yet…
Aargh! Too much thinking. Time to go downstairs, call Dawnie and help Spike with dinner.
Tara approached the house on Revello Drive with hope in her heart. She hadn’t called before, hoping she wouldn’t be turned away if she showed up without warning.
The estrangement between the Scoobies and Buffy was destroying them. Yes, it was their fault. Each and every one of Buffy’s friends was willing to kick the vampire who’d saved Buffy’s life and had uncompromising faith in her return, to the curb. The resulting animosity isolated both camps.
As she neared the door, Tara heard a bloodcurdling scream – a sound she’d never heard from Buffy in all the time she’d known her. She rang the bell, and beat on the door, hard – hoping to be heard above the racket coming from inside the house. Oh, God, what if the others were right about…
Buffy answered the door gasping for breath, blood dripping down her face from a massive wound on her head. Or so it looked at first glance.
The grin on the girl’s face belied the probability of such a wound, and when Tara took in a deep breath, she realized that it wasn’t blood trailing down Buffy’s cheeks, but – tomato sauce? Her eyes grew wide at the sight before her. “My Goddess, Buffy… you look amazing!”
“Girl looks damned fine even covered with most of dinner.” Spike appeared suddenly behind Buffy, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What can we do for you, little witch?”
Tara blushed. “W-would you mind inviting me in?”
Buffy wiggled out of Spike’s embrace, opening the door and stepping aside to let Tara enter. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Seems I need to shower yet again.” She grinned, turning to the vampire. “Can you hold down the kitchen on your own till I get back?”
With a snort, he cuffed her gently on the back of her head, sending little droplets of tomato sauce flying. “You keep your sticky little fingers out of my kitchen, Missy, and I’ll keep my fingers out of…”
With a very guilty little ‘eep’ a suddenly pink-cheeked Buffy shoved Spike and started upstairs. “Don’t you go telling Tara anything I’ll have to smack you for when I get back.”
Tara watched the interplay with amazement. Whatever they did was in synch with the other. Their speech patterns, movements… it was like watching an old, married couple deep into their domesticity.
She followed Spike into the kitchen, once again surprised to see him putting together two trays of lasagna. Lots of grated cheeses, a pan of spicy meat sauce, and a pot of the sauce Buffy was obviously wearing. The overall smell was heavenly.
“I-I’m so impressed, Spike. I never figured you for a chef.”
Spike gave her a look. “Now, we both know you’re not here to compliment me on my culinary skills, Tara,” he chided. “Did the pack send you here to make sure I’m not takin’ advantage of the Slayer? Luv, I’m not keepin’ her naked and chained to the bed against her will so’s I can have my wicked way with her.”
Tara blushed again, the image in her head was a little too provocative. She stilled her vivid imagination with great effort, and managed to keep her voice level. “She looks like you’ve taken very good care of her, Spike. A-almost back to normal. The brown hair makes her look more like Dawnie.”
“Niblet’s comin’ back home for dinner, hence the fancy fixin’s. Care to join us?” he asked, half-hoping despite himself that she would stay. Buffy needed her friends back in her life, even though she wouldn’t admit it right now. The trick would be getting them to accept her as she was now; a woman more capable of standing on her own two feet than ever before.
“That’s great. I’m sure Dawnie will be happy to see her sister again. Is she coming back to stay?”
“Plan t’ask her after dinner. Make it her choice, no pressure.”
With a nod, Tara agreed. “You know the rest of Buffy’s friends miss her, too, Spike,” she said quietly. “I c-came alone today to see if we could pave the way for them…”
“Pave the way for who, Tara?” Buffy breezed into the kitchen, freshly washed and dressed in something a little less tomato-y.
Spike answered for her, hoping to keep things calm. “Just talkin’ about possibly seein’ your old friends again, pet. Tara says they miss you.”
Buffy snorted, making a show of opening and closing the cabinet doors to hide her discomfort with the subject. “Yeah, they miss me. That’s why I haven’t heard a word from any of ‘em since I woke up and wouldn’t dance to their tune.”
“It’s been a month, luv,” Spike tried, holding her shoulders and turning her to look into her angry face. “You know you’ll have to deal with ‘em again. You’re a lot stronger now… more yourself. Maybe things’ll go better this time.”
“Spike’s told me Dawnie’s coming back this evening,” Tara volunteered. “It would be good for everyone if things got back to normal.”
Buffy shook her head. “Tara, I thank you for coming over. It’s good to see you, really it is. But I’ve been finding out just what it means to make decisions without having to second guess myself as to whether my friends would approve. I’m twenty one years old and I’ve been the Slayer for the past six years. I think I can bloody well make up my own mind about the way I want to run my own life without interference.”
Tara frowned upon hearing the borrowed Briticism. “Are you sure, Buffy? Are you sure you’re making up your own mind? Don’t you hear yourself? You sound like Spike. Maybe he’s interfering with you and keeping you from your real friends.”
“Never thought I’d hear you toe the party line, witch.” Spike seemed outwardly calm, but Tara could read the hurt and anger on his face. “Buffy makes up her own mind. She wants me out, all she has to do is say so. She wants her friends in, same deal.”
The sound of breaking glass refocused their attention on Buffy, who’d thrown a glass bowl against the wall.
“I’m standing right here, people. I’m not incompetent. I said I make up my own mind about things, Tara. Nobody influences me. So I said the word ‘bloody’. I’ve heard it from Spike day in and day out for more than four years. No biggie. What if I suddenly started saying ‘Dear Lord’? Would you suddenly tell me Giles has too much influence on me?”
Spike turned his attention away from the women. He cleaned up the broken glass, and went back to finishing layering the lasagna. When the pans were finished and placed in the oven, he spoke. “Ladies, I’m goin’ upstairs to shower an’ get ready for Niblet’s arrival. Settle this shite before she comes home. She’s been upset enough by friends choosin’ sides. Don’t make it worse by fightin’ in front of her.”
Tara deflated. “Goddess, Buffy… I’m sorry, really. I-I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to see you. I miss us being all together. Most of all, I know Spike’s been nothing but good for you. I don’t even know why I went off on him like that. Forgive me? Please?”
Buffy stared down the young woman before saying anything. “You’re the newest to the Scoobies, Tara. One with the least time put in to ties and relationships. How come you came here instead of them? Why aren’t my closest friends here fighting for our friendship?”
“Why haven’t you called them, yourself?”
Okay – stalemate.
“It’s not all about Spike, you know. All their fears and worries. They think you don’t need them anymore. That you don’t want them in your life.”
“That’s just it! I don’t need them in my life.” Buffy twisted her hands in front of her. “But I do want them in my life. That’s a whole different ball of waxy stuff. They’ve just got to understand I can make my own decisions. They don’t have to like my choices, but they have to respect them.”
“Did you ever tell them that, Buffy?”
“How could I?” Buffy snapped. “This is all new to me. It’s like I never realized how controlling my friends were. Xander and Willow were always telling me that my choice of boyfriends sucked. A-and it’s not as if they were wrong… but I should have been allowed to find that out on my own. It’s not their place to tell me who I should and shouldn’t date.”
Looking into Tara’s eyes, she said: “If I were to tell Willow that I thought it was a bad idea for her to date you… not because of the gay thing, but that you weren’t right for her… how do you think that would sit? Or if I told her that maybe she wasn’t gay, and just letting you influence her?”
This time it was Tara’s turn to look thoughtful. “I guess I never thought of it that way. It’s just that everyone was so close…”
“And we’re growing up. Relationships are changing,” Buffy insisted. “And I’ve been through a life-altering experience that everyone’s just gonna have to accept. I’m not the same little girl as I was before the coma. And I’m not going to allow anyone to push me around. Not even Spike. The difference is, he doesn’t try.”
Tara looked up wistfully. “Is there any hope for us? W-will we ever be friends again?”
Buffy unclenched her hands, grabbing onto a chair for support. “I’ll tell you what, Tara. Talk to them and come up with an evening that’s good for everyone. Have somebody call me and Spike and I will set up a dinner and a Scooby meeting for afterwards.” Obviously still upset, she added, “But respect for me and my… for me and Spike is the first order of business. If it breaks down into another ‘let’s stake the evil vampire for his corrupting influence on the poor wittle Slayer’ fest, I’m through.”
Tara nodded. “I get that.Respect on both sides. I’ll do my best, I promise. I’ll have someone call you soon… real soon. M-maybe it’s best if I just go and start to coordinate this now… leave you and Dawn some privacy for her homecoming?”
And as if on cue, Spike and Dawn walked in through the kitchen door.
The Body – Chapter 10 – Homecomings
Tara closed the door behind her as she left the house. She’d spent a few awkward moments with Dawn, but left before the girl could question why she wasn’t staying for dinner.
The unexpected blow-up at Spike and the ensuing argument with Buffy left her feeling rattled. On the one hand, Buffy looked better than she’d expected. Her speech and brain functions were certainly up to par, and her motor skills seemed normal. Tara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Buffy’s condition was due to Spike’s diligence and the Slayer’s intrinsic stubborn nature. On the other hand, Buffy was isolated from everyone she knew, apparently by her own choice.
Getting the Scoobies back together again might have been a pipe dream after all. Tara just couldn’t see Xander and Giles accepting Buffy’s increased independence, and yet odd reliance, on Spike without a screaming match and the ever present threat of physical violence.
Well, the ball was in her court, now. She’d promised Buffy to present her terms to the gang and with any luck, they’d all be sitting down together within the next few days.
Inside the house the very walls shook with Dawn’s squeals of joy. “Look at you, Buffy! You’re gorgeous!” she shrieked, grabbing her sister around the waist. “I’d hoped for so long and… and… I believed. I really did and we talked and I could tell, and even Spike told me, but…”
“I know. I know.” Buffy laughed, overjoyed at having her younger sister back home where she belonged. “There’s nothing quite like seeing for yourself, and holding each other in not so bony arms.”
“Geeze, you were such a Skeletor. Next to you, I looked fat.”
Buffy hugged her tightly once more, glimpsing Spike over Dawn’s shoulder. The soft smile on the vampire’s lips touched her deeply. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently, knowing the words were inadequate but they would have to do for now.
Reluctantly disengaging herself from her sister’s embrace, Buffy’s nerves got the better of her and it was her turn to babble. “Um, dinner should be ready in about a half hour or so, and you should consider yourself lucky I wasn’t cooking. Spike’s done a hell of a job with the lasagna and I did make the garlic butter for the bread, so I am getting better with the whole cooking thing and I’d get better much faster if Vampy Crocker would ease up and let me in the kitchen more…”
“I-it’s okay, Sis. I didn’t come back here for your mega-cooking skills.” Dawn began to fidget like a Mexican jumping bean. “I just want… I mean… it’s just so good to see you again. A-and Spike, too. And the house, and my room, and… and...”
With the faux sigh of the not really put upon, Spike brought his hands to his head “You women and your bloody babble-fest. Just let it go. You’re home. You’re together. Enjoy it.”
“Shut up, Spike!”
“Shut up, Spike!”
“Oi! Remind me again why I wanted to be around you two?”
Dawn grabbed him around the neck, hugging him for all she was worth. “Because you love us, silly vampire.”
Oh crap.
In her excitement over being back home, Dawn had dropped her guard. She and Spike might have been open and free about expressing their feelings for one another, but Buffy? Buffy was treading into new territory.
“Buffy?” She watched her sister for any signs of anger or hostility towards her fangy big brother. It wouldn’t take much to make this homecoming a disaster.
Buffy sat on the couch, cringing inwardly. She’d really done a self-righteous number on her sister if the simple statement of Spike’s obvious affection garnered the worry she saw in both their faces.
“It’s fine Dawnie,” she soothed. “One thing I can’t deny is Spike’s feelings anymore. Not after all these months... all he’s done for us both. I know how much he means to you.”
“Whoa! Who are you and what did you do with…”
Jumping up, Buffy flung her hands out in frustration. “Stop! Not one more word!” she cried. “If I hear those words from one more person, no judge in the world will hold me responsible. I-I’m not… I wasn’t… am?”
Her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. Gods, everybody must think I’m such a bitch.
Spike was by her side in seconds. “Oh, pet,” he murmured, taking her hands in his. “S’just a joke. You know we don’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Buffy please don’t cry,” Dawn begged, her own eyes overflowing. “I just wanted to be here with you so bad. I missed you so much, even when you acted like a spoiled brat. Please, please, please don’t make me go back to Angel’s. I wanna stay home. With you and Spike.”
Buffy looked over at Spike, as if seeking… not exactly permission or confirmation. It was her house, after all, and her sister, but the twinkle in his eyes showed his pleasure.
“Of course you can stay. It’s your home and I’m doing great and we miss you so much.” And just when did we turn all Addams Family?
“Great,” Dawn squealed. “’cause Angel's bringing all my stuff over in a couple of hours. I so knew you'd cave.”
No one can resist the power of the Summers' pout!!!!
“Pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you, Platelet?”
“Yuh huh.” Giddy with relief that they weren’t going to send her away, Dawn whipped out her cell phone and quickly stabbed in the number. “It’s all set, Angel. You can bring home my junk any time.”
Buffy smiled at her sister, thrilled to have her little family together again. “Don’t forget the pretty vampire!” Bad Buffy insisted. “He’s as much a part of your life now as anyone. Moreso, lately.”
She really did need to have a talk with herself. And soon.
Three Days Later
True to her word, Tara had arranged a meeting between Buffy and her friends, and they now sat on one side of the room, Buffy, Spike, and Dawn on the other. Buffy tried to figure out just when it became an ‘us against them’ kind of situation.
Xander was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Does he have to hover like that?” The angry brunet jabbed his finger in Spike’s direction. “He looks like a vulture hanging over the back of your chair, Buffy. Does he have to be here at all? We came to see you.”
“Does she have to be here?” Buffy shot back, pointing a mirroring finger at Anya. “You might have come to see me, but she’d rather be off eviscerating some poor, dumb...”
“Uh, hello? Ex-demon here and…”
“I’m not sending Spike out of the room, Xander. This whole meeting is as much about him as it is about any of us.”
“Oh my God! Just listen to you all,” Dawn shrieked. “Five years olds. That’s what you all sound like.”
“That’s the point I was trying to make. No offence, Anya?”
The ex-demon sniffed. “None taken, really. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“And just so’s we’re clear about the ground-rules…” Buffy continued, hoping to get past the opening salvos, “Tara did mention that attacking Spike and our continuing discussion were not mixy things, right?”
Buffy felt her bravado slide away as she faced her once close-knit group of friends.
The sullen expression on Xander’s face was discouraging, but at least he was silent. Anya quite frankly looked bored, checking out her manicure and yawning. Tara’s face was full of soft hope, holding hands with Willow, who looked lost. Giles’ face was neutral, giving nothing away.
And these people were her best friends and trusted allies?
She felt Dawn’s hands slip into hers and Spike’s tighten around her shoulders. They knew Buffy wanted to bolt from the room. She’d be strong, though. For them. For herself. Being avoidy-girl hadn’t done her any favors over the years and it was time to take a stand.
“I-I really am glad to see you guys again,” she stammered, not sure who she was trying to convince of the fact.
“You don’t i seem /i overly enthusiastic about it. We’ve been here for a half hour already and there’s really been no eye contact at all.”
“Anya!”
“Well, it’s true, Xander. It all feels forced and uncomfortable, and if all we’re going to do is sit here and be miserable, I want to go home.”
Rising quickly from the couch, Buffy crossed the room and stood between Anya and the door.
“Please don’t leave, Anya. We’ve all got to talk, and it looks like you’re the only one with the… stones to do it. Everyone has something they want to say and they’re all holding it in. Trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Except for Xander.”
“True,” Buffy agreed. “He’s been a bit vocal about his opinions. But I’d really like to hear what you have to say. And don’t hold back. I mean, don’t let anyone tell you what to say or not say. How do you feel about what’s going on with my life?”
Anya chewed lightly on her lower lip before speaking. She obviously wasn’t used to being asked to voice her own opinion.
“Alright, then. I’m glad you didn’t die. I’m glad you woke up from your coma. And if Spike is responsible for helping you look as good and healthy as you look now, I think we all owe him a massive debt.” She hurried to add: “Not the kind where you have to pay him money, of course. Human life isn’t to be calculated in dollars and cents, right?”
“Leave it to you, pet,” Spike chimed in. “Cut right to the heart of the matter.”
Dawn aimed a slap at the back of his head.
“Hush, Spike. Dawnie’s right. Don’t push things and maybe we’ll get somewhere this time.” Turning back to the ex-demon, Buffy asked: “Do you have any problems if I let Spike stay here permanently?”
“Makes it easier for both of you to have many orgasms if you’re under the same roof.” Anya tossed her hair before sitting back down next to a gasping Xander. “No skin off my nose who you’re boinking.”
“Now see here, Anya,” Giles interjected over the splutterings of all parties in the room. “There was no mention of ‘boinking’ or other related activities. Must everything be about sex with you?”
“Not another word, Ahn.” Xander forced the words through gritted teeth, his expression murderous. “For the love of everything non-Hellmouthy, don’t answer that.”
Giles stepped back as Buffy rounded on him. Hands planted firmly on her hips, she stared as if daring him to speak. They stood facing each other for several long, tense minutes before the Slayer broke the ice.
“Just spit it out, Giles, before it kills you. You look like you could use a half dozen bran muffins. Tell me what you think I’m doing wrong.”
A deep sigh preceded the removal and cleansing of the glasses ritual before the man was composed enough to speak his piece.
“Frankly, Buffy, I’m still just coming to terms with your remarkable recovery. I-I’d hoped… I mean, prayed for you to walk again, but this…” he said, spreading his arms out to encompass her entirety, “… this was more than I dared dream of.”
With a sniffle, Buffy threw herself into her Watcher’s open arms. It had been a long time coming, and even if the peace lasted for only a moment, she tried to draw comfort from it.
“My dear girl,” he gasped. “Oxygen is still a necessary component for breathing.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Guess I don’t know my own strength anymore.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know it’s not far off the mark from what I remember,” he groaned, holding his sore ribs gently. “How are you managing to train?”
“My physical therapist, Lynette Marcus, left a workout schedule for me, and Spike’s been sparring…”
Buffy could tell Giles was struggling to come up with the words, but she wasn’t going to let anyone off the hook. Not this time. “Hey! No fair trying to distract me, Giles. You still haven’t answered my question. I need to hear your problems with my decisions.”
“Very well, then. I find myself in the unenviable position of having to be grateful to a vampire for all he’s done on your behalf. I never thought he would see it through.” Turning to the vampire in question, he added: “Spike, truly, I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay as much as I am loathe to admit it. If Buffy wishes you to stay, I will abide by her decision. However…”
“Yeah, I know the song, Rupert. You’ll stake me good and proper if I hurt either the Slayer or Niblet in any way, shape or form. ‘Fraid you’re gonna have to come up with a new tune, mate.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. At least several people weren’t going to give her a hard time. She was also duly impressed with Spike’s reaction, or rather non-reaction to her announcement. It was rather off-the-cuff and she’d not even broached the subject of his staying on before.
She had to admit she’d gotten comfortable with the way things were between them. It was nice not being alone, and the give and take with someone who knew her life inside and out was a pleasure. Not to mention the daily viewing of all those glistening muscles when he comes out of the shower! Bad Buffy added her two cents to the mix. And if that towel should happen to slip…?
Buffy wiped at the corner of her mouth, sure she had started to drool. Gazing around the room at all the expectant faces, she realized she must have drifted off into fantasy land for just a moment.
“Okay, then,” she continued, hoping nobody would call her on her lapse. “Tara? Willow? What’s the sitch with you two?”
“I-I’m fine if you are,” Tara offered, obviously taking their last conversation to heart. “Spike has done more than any of us expected of him.” She squeezed Willow’s hand for support, nervous at being the focus of everyone’s attention.
Willow looked around the room at her friends before resting her gaze on Spike. “I don’t exactly trust you, what with the whole bottle-in-the-face thing we had going on, but I do trust Buffy. If she trusts you I guess it’ll have to be good enough for me. For now. But…” she stated, grasping an invisible something in front of her face, “…shovel, head. Just ask Buffy to explain.”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Xander exclaimed. “Has everybody lost their minds? What is this… adopt a vampire month?”
Before Buffy could say a word, Anya fixed him with a glare worthy of her vengeance demon days. One that said if he held his family jewels dear, he’d better rein it in. And if he ever expected to get laid again? Retract, retract, retract.
For a change, he took the hint. “Fine! None of you are willing to listen to reason, and Willie Wanna-Bite gets a new home. I get it. But don’t you come running to me when he drains you dry ‘cause I’m not too proud that I won’t be doin’ the ‘nyah nyah’ dance of I told you so.”
“So we’re all clear here?” Anya stood, straightening her clothes. “Spike stays, nobody stakes him, and we’re all hunky dory friends again?”
Relaxed around her friends for the first time since she’d awoken from the coma, Buffy smiled. Maybe she could have it all.