Last Mission
Chapter 7
The bed was so cosy I didn't want to get up.
For a moment I couldn't remember what day it was but then it struck me; no alarm so it must be Sunday. I must have slept in late this morning. Often on a Sunday I would to catch up on the sleep I had missed during the week. Plus this disorientation I was feeling? Typical 'morning after' for me. I must have had a 'good' time last night!
When would I get it through my thick skull that alcohol and Buffy are non-mixey?
Yet I do it all the time. Dawn comes to visit, or Xander and his wife, and then Saturday night finds me showing them the best little trattorias in Rome. Two or three decanters later and I'm the life and soul with a new-found confidence in the Italian language and a sudden familial relationship with the proprietor and every waiter in the place. It dulls the pain of being alone. And if I'm actually on my own, the pain is more, so the more I drink. It's not clever, but I don't like spending Saturday night at home by myself.
Of course, the next morning I am reminded of my alcoholic consumption by the disorientation and pounding headaches.
Thankfully, this morning seemed to be headache-free so far, which either meant I hadn't drunk that much, or I had totally over-indulged and I was still under the influence. If that was the case, my hangover would catch up with me later and was likely to be a doosey!
My stomach grumbled and I groaned inwardly. I was hungry, really hungry as it happened, and that meant I would have to leave this comfy bed to get something to eat.
It hadn't escaped my addled brain that if I was still suffering from the effects of drinking too much last night, eating anything now would be tempting fate; I had no wish to have my breakfast, brunch or whatever, make a return visit!
But if I had learnt anything in my 35 years it was that a rumbling tummy was not to be ignored. Sighing to myself softly, I threw the covers off me and forced my legs over the side of the bed.
Then there was something puzzling. I went to slip my feet into my favourite mules only to find nothing but a soft rug beneath my toes. Where were my slippers? Dawn had bought them for me last Christmas; supple leather and Italian styling. They were all I wore indoors.
I looked around in the gloom and although the room was dark I could easily see enough to know that my slippers were not anywhere on the floor in front of me. I leant forward to run my hand under the edge of the bed. Nothing. Well that was curious. The wine must have really flowed last night. And probably the beer, and maybe the Grappa too. Ooops!
I could see a halo of morning light around the drapes so I padded over to the window. Throwing the drapes back I began scanning the rest of the bedroom floor for my missing mules.
"Argh, pet! The curtains! Close the bloody curtains!"
"Eek!" I jumped at the voice, familiar though it was.
"S-Spike?" Ohmygod! Spike? I'd been out on the town with Spike? How did that happen? Was I that drunk last night? Had I done that 'Peroni with Amaretto chaser' thing again?
"Buffy, love, step away from the windows, yeah?"
Completely dumbfounded, I instinctively moved towards the door of the room and away from the windows.
"Wha …. Um, wha …." Great! The power of speech had left along with my sobriety it seemed.
"Oh God, Buffy. How do you feel? Are you okay?"
I blinked and mustered what remained of my senses.
"Yeah, I'm, um, fine. Just waiting for my hangover to kick in. How much did I have to drink last night? Was there any Amaretto? Grappa? Tell me not both?"
"Hangover? Grappa?" He smirked at me, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Oh, that didn't bode well. Must have been a night and a half!
"Well," I confessed bravely, "I don't remember exactly how much I had to drink but judging by my inability to recall anything about last night and, um, how we, um, how we ended up here I must have really thrown caution to the wind."
I hope I didn't look as embarrassed as I felt. Even so, I could see the funny side of this. I could just imagine the headlines of tomorrow's La Stampa: 'Soused Slayer Seeks Solace with Sexy BloodSucker!' Only in Italian, of course.
"You don't remember last night? Any of it?" Spike's smirk was a full-blown smile now.
"Cat got your ears?" We both grinned at that. "Yeah, okay so I don't remember. Big deal! At least I don't have a headache and I'm not hunched over the toilet losing my pasta al pollo, like last time."
"You lost your lunch?" There was incredulity and poorly disguised glee in his voice. Damn him.
"Well, technically it was dinner, but yeah, drink doesn't like sharing so anything else kinda gets chucked up!" I grimaced. "I can't help it. I dunno but I think it must be in my genes," I protested.
"You must have been right sloshed last night, Slayer, if you can't remember what's in your jeans." Spike started chortling!
"Alright, alright. Have a laugh at my expense. Yep, Buffy can't hold her drink. Old news! The residents of Trastevere have seen it all before so I doubt last night would have been a surprise to them. In fact, I'm sure the whole of Rome knows about my little alcohol intolerance by now." I was grinning stupidly.
"Rome?"
"Um, yeah, Rome. Where did you think we were?"
"Alaska, pet."
Oh, that had me sniggering. "Alaska? And I thought you could hold your drink! How many Peroni did you put away?"
"Peroni? Don't ya mean Alaskan ale?"
"Um, no. No Alaskan ale here in Rome!"
"But we're in Alaska, pet."
"Rome, Fang Face!"
"Alaska! Bloody Colonial!"
Well, that was it. Spike started chuckling and it was totally infectious. My snigger became a giggle and before long we were both laughing like a Chris Rock audience on nitrous oxide.
I moved back to the bed to avoid collapsing onto the floor, as I held my sides and tears rolled from my eyes. I don't think I had laughed so hard for years.
"Rome!" Spike murmured as he tried to catch his instinctive breath.
"Alaska!" I countered and curled up in another fit of the giggles.
Then he was tickling me and I was trying to respond in kind while squirming out of reach. His arms are longer than mine so I was losing ground but I revelled in our game.
I felt something deep inside pulling me to him; pulling me to Spike. Instead of moving away from his teasing fingers, I twisted round to draw closer to him. My mouth sought his and his hands stilled as they cradled my face.
He drew back to look at me.
"Buffy is that you? Really you?"
"Um, yep! Who else were you expecting? You never told me how much you had to drink and I'm beginning to think you had more than me."
"You honestly don't remember?" We scooted up so that we were now sitting facing each other, his hands resting on my shoulders.
"Spike, what is it you want me to remember? It might just be quicker to tell me then we can get back to the smoochies."
"Right! Yeah. Tell you, yeah." He looked away at some point the far side of the room as his arms fell away from me.
My curiosity was piqued and I was beginning to get nervous. What the hell had I done yesterday?
"Spike, what is it? You're being with the cryptic and it's all shades of scary. Did I do something last night that you don't want me to remember? I didn't make out with that nice waiter, Lino, at Georgio's Trattoria, did I? I don't really like him but he flirts - well, Italian, you know - and I like to tease him. Spike, tell me. Oh no, not the karaoke again? Oh, it wasn't worse than that? Oh no, what did I do? Was it that bad?"
His eyes flew back to mine.
"No, pet, no. You didn't get drunk. But you do need to know about yesterday."
"I wasn't drunk? Okay, that's weird. 'Splainy!"
"Have you noticed anything, er, different about yourself this morning?"
My brow furrowed. "Different? Like my memory being all with the not being there?"
"Yeah, but something more than that. How do you feel?"
"I'm good. Surprisingly. Why, did I eat something dodgy? Or was there anti-freeze in the wine? There's been a lot about that in the papers here. Makes the wine sweeter if the harvest's bad."
"No, pet, nothing like that. But have you not noticed anything, er, strange about this situation?"
"Other than not finding my slippers?" I shook my head. What did he mean?
"Well, firstly, pet, you're in bed with me and you haven't rushed out with your virtue all of a flutter. Then there's the fact that we're both bollock naked and you haven't once reached for a sheet or whatnot to cover said virtue."
I considered this for a moment. He was certainly right about us being naked. But I can't say I was bothered by it. Should I be concerned that our nudity wasn't an issue for me? I didn't think so.
"O-kaaay. So I can't actually remember this happening quite like this before, but it doesn't feel wrong."
"It doesn't?"
"Nope. And your point, Mr Concerned Face?"
"Trust me?"
I nodded, wondering where this was leading to. He took my wrist gently in both hands and then without warning his grip tightened and he gave me an Indian burn.
"Ow! Wha'd'ya do that for?" I yelped in pain.
He took my hand and held it up to my face until it was touching my skin. My face felt different to my touch; my forehead was kinda bumpy and my brow was more pronounced than I remembered it being. Then he directed my hand to my mouth, pressing a finger into the corner of my lips. Wow! I had a pointy tooth. No wait: two pointy teeth!
"Wha … ?"
"Buffy, love, those are fangs. There's no other way to say this, pet: You're a vampire now."
"Cool!"
"'Scuse me?"
"You serious? I'm a real live vampire?"
"Er, real undead vampire. Yeah. Er, you okay with that?"
"You bet! Kinda sexy, don'cha think?" I flashed my fangs at him in a wide smile.
"You don't know the half of it, love." He was stroking the side of my face, looking at me with those fathomless blue eyes.
"Of course, a big 'ew' to all that killing and blood drinking and stuff but, hey, they got blood banks now, right?"
"You're not upset, or – angry?"
"Nope! Why should I be? Hey have you got any blood 'cause now I come to think of it I'm starving and I only got up to get something to eat."
"Sorry, pet, I'm forgetting my manners."
He reached over to the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed and produced a bag of O-negative. "Here y'are. I could warm it up, yeah?"
"Nuh-uh," I shook my head. I was too famished to wait.
He shifted into gameface and pierced the bag with the tip of a fang.
I took the bag from him and sucked at the nick he had made. It tasted good, as though I hadn't eaten in days and was now sitting down to Georgio's best pasta al forno with creamy mushroom and Madeira sauce. I didn't stop until I finished the bag, squeezing every last drop from it before licking my lips and running my tongue over my fangs.
"So, gonna tell me how I got to be this sexy vamp then?" I batted my eyelashes at him and giggled.
He sighed. "You'll be the death of me Slayer," he moaned.
"You're already dead, Mr The Bloody! So come on, what happened to me? Spill!"
Spike hauled us up so that we were resting more comfortably against the pillows propped up on the headboard. And he began to tell the tale of how I came to be a vampire, sitting naked in my former enemy's bed. He told me everything.
I sat quietly digesting everything I had just learned. I had begun to remember little flashes of what had happened as he had been explaining about my trip to Alaska (guess I lost that argument; we weren't in Kansas anymore). It was a lot to take in but somehow it didn't seem as wig-some as logic said it should have.
Yeah, I was a vampire, but I couldn't think that was a bad thing. Especially as the alternative was an undignified death, courtesy of that evil demon, cancer. No, I think I was pleased with the outcome. Very pleased, seeing as I had Mr Drop Undead Gorgeous sitting next to me, in bed, and without a stitch of clothing on. Yummy!
"Buffy, you're very quiet. You okay?"
There was concern and fear in Spike's voice so I turned and kissed him gently on the lips, my bumpies having slipped away while he told his tale.
"I'm fine, sweetie. More than fine. Yeah, I'm happy. "
"Happy?"
"Well, duh! Not with the dying anymore and, hey, sexy bed-mate. What's not to be happy about?"
"You think I'm sexy?"
"People who go fishing for compliments never catch anything good!"
"But you think I'm sexy, right?"
"Get over yourself, already!" Then I had a thought and reached up to feel my hair. It seemed like it was probably doing a passable impersonation of Medusa (yeah, they have Museums in Rome, you know. Culture was bound to rub off on me sooner or later). Bed-hair; so not an attractive look! I needed a comb.
I gave Spike another quick kiss then bounded out of bed.
"Back in a mo," I called cheerily over my shoulder as I padded out of the room. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I knew I was beaming from ear to ear.
I didn't notice at first as I entered the bathroom. But then I stopped dead in my tracks. Confusion and dread hit me and I felt suddenly giddy. I did the only thing I could: I yelled: "Spike!"
And then he was there, arms around me, his concern washing over me. "What is it? What's wrong, love?"
I couldn't speak because now I was even more wigged than ever. It was all I could do to raise my arm and point towards the mirrored cabinet over the bathroom basin, which had probably come with the apartment and was likely to be the only mirror in Spike's home.
Spike's gasp and his tightened grip told me he saw what I was seeing. I wasn't dreaming, hallucinating, or crazy.
As we stood frozen in the doorway of the small well-appointed bathroom, two pairs of eyes stared back at us: from the mirror! We were staring at a reflection of ourselves. But we were vampires. That was against every convention; every tradition; every natural lore.
My fear was easing now that Spike was holding me and I found my voice.
"Magic mirror?"
"Not likely, pet. Never seen m'self in it in all the years I've lived here." He paused a moment and I felt him take a deep breath. "First time I've seen m'self, luv, in, god, must be a century and a quarter; something like that. Do I really look like that, pet?"
I smiled at his reflection. "Do you really look that hot? Hell yeah!"
The reflection smiled back. "Thanks, pet. But as fun as this unexpected discovery is, I think we need to find out why this has happened. Is it just this mirror? If so, why didn' it show my reflection before? Or will other mirrors be like this? And if so, why? What's changed? I don't smell any magicks but what else can it be? This is bloody weird."
His reflection frowned.
"Yeah, I know, baby, it's kinda spooky. Oh, but wait! Do your bumpies!"
"Beg pardon, love?"
"Gameface! Do your gameface! You've never seen it, have you?"
The reflection raised his eyebrows then shifted into the vampire facade. His golden eyes looked back at himself in open amazement. I giggled.
"Bloody Hell!"
"Hello, handsome!"
I concentrated until I had bought my fangs and bumpies to the fore. I guessed I'd get more proficient at shifting with time. It was weird to see my face so completely changed. I remembered now that when I'd first become the Slayer I had wondered what I would look like if I ever slipped up and got turned. I thought I would look ugly as a vampire; most of the vampires I fought looked ugly to me. But there were exceptions; Angel and Spike for example. And now I was looking admiringly at my vampire image in the bathroom mirror. Mmm, not so bad.
Then I had an idea. "I need my purse. Stay here."
I was back in seconds, delving into my purse until … yeesss!
"Look, look Spike!"
I held my compact mirror up for him to see.
"Christ, Buffy, something's off here. I can see m'self in this one too."
"At least we know that's not an enchanted mirror. So it must be us."
"Yeah, but why, pet? What's happened to change a fundamental aspect of being a vampire?"
"I don't care why, Spike. I remember worrying about how I would cope with never being able to see myself in a mirror ever again. I know it was no real choice: give up the reflection or keep the cancer. But me and mirrors go back a long way! Girl's best friend. So this is kinda like a bonus for me."
"Well if that doesn't say it all about American women today! Never mind the devastating and irreversible effects of becoming a vampire, like death, being ripped from friends and family, the need to drink blood to survive, a predilection for violence, fatal aversion to sunlight, unbridled selfishness, blinding bloodlust, unrestrained hedonism, oh, and did I mention, death. But no, the girl was worried she wouldn't be able to admire herself in the mirror!"
"I didn't say I didn't think about the other things", I complained indignantly. "I just like having a reflection, that's all. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look at myself in a mirror."
"The story of Narcissus is wasted on you, isn't it, pet?"
"Daffodils? What have daffodils got to do with this?"
"Good grief, woman! Can we leave your lack of education for a moment and concentrate on what's happening here? What's changed and why?"
"And has anything else changed? Perhaps we can go out in daylight now too?" Was it too much to hope, I wondered?
"Alaska, love, remember? We can go out in the daylight here!"
"Oh yeah. But what about strong sunshine? Italian Riviera sunshine?"
"No way to test that here. No wait. There might be. The sun here doesn't burn me but this time of year direct sunshine is really uncomfortable, like insects under the skin, yeah?"
We returned to the bedroom, Spike pausing momentarily for one more glance in the mirror, as I went to fully pull back the drapes.
"Well?" I asked as the handsome vampire twirled and revelled in what passes for strong sunshine in these parts.
"Nothin'. No heebie-jeebies, no flesh-crawlin'. Nothin'!"
I stepped in front of the window. I didn't feel anything either but then I had nothing to compare with. So instead I hugged my man, um, vampire, and we embraced in the cool light. I was so pleased for him if this meant he could walk in the sun again. Real sun. Californian sun.
Oh! Suddenly I shot back pulling out of Spike's arms.
"Pet?"
"Oh God, Spike. What if I'm not a proper vampire? What if I still have the cancer? What if …. "
"Whoa! It's okay! The cancer's gone, luv."
"Gone? How …."
"I can tell, Buffy. Just like when you first turned up at The Lodge, when I knew you were ill. I knew just how ill you were before you told me, luv. I could feel how 'off' your essence was. There's no cancer left; I knew that as soon as you woke as a vamp. It's gone, Buffy."
"Really?"
"Really, love. It's all gone. You're fine. More than fine." He stepped forward and I was in his arms again, shaking off the tears that had pooled behind my eyes, as he pressed kisses to the top of my head.
I whispered into his chest, "Why do you think this mirror-y thing has happened, Spike?"
"Can't say, pet, but we really need to know. We dunno if there's a down side or if this is only temporary. Don't fancy strolling along by the seaside in the sun one afternoon and have this suddenly wear off. Don' fancy being a beach barbecue! So we need to know, pronto.
"But I think I know how to find out. Got a mate down the Moray Valley a bit. Demon. Plays a mean game of kitten poker but can't hold his drink worth a damn. Bit like you there, Lady Light-weight!" We both grinned as he continued, "He's writing a book on demon lore. He'll know or he'll know a demon who does."
"Let's go then!" I started pulling him towards the door; I couldn't wait.
"Er, pet?"
"Uh-hu?"
"Clothes? Just an idea but don' fancy my mate layin' his beady li'l eyes on your pretty package!"
"Oh! Ew! Um, you think I'm pretty?"
"People who go fishing for compliments never catch anything good!" he mimicked in a sing-song voice, which did NOT sound anything like me!
I threw a pillow at him, then began gathering my clothes from the nightstand. We had a demon to see!
Author's Note: A big THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed this. My muse is grateful beyond words (which it unusual for her!). Only one more chapter to go! Up soon!