Save the Last Dance for Me

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 25: We Need to Talk

Chapter Summary:

Buffy and Spike talk about what happened when he bit her.

** X-X-X-X-X **

Two days later…

"Breakfast is served," Buffy announced, entering her dimly-lit bedroom with a mug of perfectly heated blood. "Ninety-eight point six, just like you like it."

It was the crack of noon, technically the middle of the night for Spike, but he'd been doing little more than eating, resting, and, well, shagging the Slayer when the opportunity arose, for the last couple of days. He didn't mind his beauty sleep being interrupted at odd hours. He welcomed it, actually.

Buffy was still in her fluffy pink bathrobe, freshly showered, and ready to spend a whole day doing absolutely nothing productive. She'd worked double-shifts the last two days as an underpaid minion at the DoubleMeat Palace and had also patrolled afterwards. She was ready for a break. She didn't want to think about that horrid place for another twenty-four hours, when her turn at the grindstone came up again. Patrolling wasn't as horrible as serving secret ingredients to hangry families, but it, too, was many hours away ... if she went at all.

As rumors flew regarding the Terrible Tribble Tumult, as she liked to call it, the demons and vampires of Sunnydale seemed to be keeping a low profile, and new demons seemed to be steering clear of the area. Apparently, no one was exactly sure who had slaughtered all those Suvolte demons, but, whoever it was lived in Sunnydale, and the evil of the world didn't want to meet them.

In other good news, Riley seemed to have taken Buffy's threat to heart, because he let Sam do most of the talking at the Scooby meeting the other night. Dawn reported that he sighed dramatically and coughed loudly at key moments as Sam recounted how the vampire had sacrificed himself, letting her get the two humans out of there, and then saving her at the end, but he didn't otherwise interrupt her. Even when Sam told them that Spike was a hero for keeping those Suvolte spawn from escaping, Finn only rolled his eyes and sighed, never actually saying anything derogatory about the vampire. Dawn, of course, helpfully slapped her hand down on Riley's back when he coughed, right against his injured shoulder, to help clear the bullshit he was choking on from his windpipe.

Spike pushed up to a seated position in the bed, leaning back against the pillow and headboard. It was getting easier to do, but he still felt things writhe and shift in his belly every time he moved very much. Most of his body was still covered in the wrappings and bandages that Sam had applied. Still, things seemed to be getting better, the large hollows of missing flesh were starting to fill back in beneath the plastic-wrapped artificial skin, and the small cuts, bruises, and abrasions were well on their way to being fully healed.

The cast of living clay on his foot tingled and itched, but Buffy threatened to make him drink nothing but Dawn's liquified grass health-food smoothies if he touched it, so he refrained. He thought he could feel something squirming within it up near the toes now and then, and it was a little disconcerting. He had visions of an alien exploding out of it and scuttling away, but he dared not lay a finger on it, taking Buffy's threat to heart.

It was amazing how much faster he healed with human blood than the pig's blood he normally survived on. Not to mention the Slayer blood he'd had, which was like jet fuel for a vampire. And Dawn's blood – he'd never before considered what extra kick magically created Key blood would contain, but he was certainly grateful for it.

"Thanks, luv," he replied, reaching to take the mug from her hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You do know there will be a quid-pro-quo for all this, right?" Buffy asked, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

Spike quirked a brow at her. "Will there, then? Seems like ya been takin' all the 'quo' outta me that ya need of late," he teased, dropping a hand down to the sheet over his crotch and giving her a smoldering look. "Be happy t' provide more, though."

A bright pink flush, which matched her bathrobe, rose over Buffy's cheeks. "Not that!" she hissed, looking back to make sure she'd closed the door. She'd had. She'd also locked it, which had become a habit lately, too.

"I meant you're gonna have to bring me breakfast in bed when you're better."

"Could give ya some breakfast in bed right now, pet," he offered, a wickedly hot gleam in his blue eyes, his hips shifting fractionally beneath the covers.

Buffy's tongue ran over her lips, as if she could taste the breakfast he was offering, and her eyes slipped down to where his hand rested on the bulge in the sheets.

She might've drooled a little.

But then she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Dawn's home … and Willow," she informed him regretfully.

Spike shrugged, looking at her thoughtfully. "Can I ask ya a question?"

"You just did," she replied, smiling. Then, after a beat, "Sure."

"How in bloody hell did Finn survive you, pet?"

The pink flush on Buffy's cheeks turned pomegranate red, and embarrassed heat rolled off her in waves. "Well … errr … I mean … That's a little personal, isn't it?" she stammered.

"Ya don't think what we've been doin' is personal, luv? Is for me."

Buffy opened her mouth and then closed it, considering. "I just meant … for Riley. It wouldn't be … fair to, you know, kiss and tell," she replied, crinkling her nose. Her voice rose a little at the end, almost turning it into a question.

Spike nodded slowly, also considering. "He didn't have to survive you," he concluded thoughtfully. "You never gave him all of Buffy … you smothered the fire."

Buffy bit her lip and looked away from Spike, studying a very interesting spot on the carpet beside the bed.

"I'm sorry, pet." And Spike meant it, not for asking the question, but for her. He hated to think of her with the plonker, but he hated to think of her fire being extinguished, or restrained, even more.

Buffy looked up then and shook her head, giving him a small smile and a shrug. "I didn't … I mean … I did some, but," she broke off, trying to find the words. "Since I've come back, it's different. I'm different. The fire … it's like an inferno now rather than a cute little bar-b-que in the hibachi," she admitted.

"And you're like … gasoline," she added, meeting his eyes.

Spike smirked. "Thought I was more like rocket fuel."

Buffy chuckled and rolled her eyes. "There you go with the modesty again."

Spike gave her a wicked smile, which was getting easier to do. At least his lip didn't crack any longer when he did that. He lifted the mug of blood up and breathed in the aroma of it. When the scent hit him, he jerked back as if he'd been shot, nearly sloshing some of it out of the mug and onto the sheets covering him.

"What the bloody hell is this?" he demanded, looking up at the Slayer.

"Slayer blood," she replied evenly.

"Knew that, didn't I?" he retorted. "Whose?"

"Faith's. I had Angel…"

"Angel?" Spike growled angrily.

"Calm down," Buffy insisted, raising her hands up in placation. "I had Angel get it. Faith doesn't like me … or trust me. Gotta say, the feeling's mutual. She's a body-stealing psycho with major daddy issues."

Spike quirked an inquiring brow at her, but Buffy ignored it.

"Anyway, he and Faith are …" Buffy shrugged, not really sure what they were. "She shot him with poison here that time, then they tried to kill each other for a while down in L.A, now they're BFFs or something ... you know, the usual. Anyway, he knows her, and she trusts him enough to give him her blood."

Spike sniffed it again. "Did he know it was for me? Might'a poisoned it."

Buffy snorted. "It's not poisoned. He thought it was for me … I told him Willow was doing some kind of magic thing and needed it."

"Lyin' to the ex now, eh? I like it," he smirked, taking a small, cautious sip.

"Not lying. It is for me … in a round-about way," she defended with a small pout.

Buffy watched him carefully. "Is it okay?"

"Tastes like … boredom," he observed. "And prison food."

Buffy's brows drew together. "How would you know what prison food tastes like?"

Spike shrugged nonchalantly. "Ate some escaped cons that, unluckily for them, tried t' break into the house me and Dru were occupyin' at the time.

"Kinda like doin' my civic duty, yeah?" he observed, lifting his chin a bit with pride.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're a regular Captain America."

"Too right," he agreed, taking a long swallow of the blood. It was nothing like Buffy's, which was like shimmering, liquid sunshine, but there was power in this – and darkness. He could feel it surge through him and go to work, speeding up his natural healing process. At this rate, he might feel well enough to hobble downstairs and watch Passions on the telly this afternoon.

"Speakin' of Slayer blood," he began, finishing the mug and setting it down on the bedside table. "We need to talk, you and me."

"Were we speaking of Slayer blood?" Buffy wondered, furrowing her brows, trying to concentrate on that part of what he said instead of the 'we need to talk' part. Those are four words no one ever wants to hear from their … boyfriend? Lover? What the hell should she call Spike? Neither of those sounded sufficient to cover it.

Spike shrugged, reaching out to grasp Buffy's wrist and turn it up, revealing the now faint, barely noticeable mark from his bite. He rubbed a thumb over the soft skin gently, then looked up, meeting her eyes.

"Tell me what happened," he requested in a serious tone.

"You were there," she hedged, pulling her hand back.

Spike gave her an impatient look, quirking his scarred brow at her.

Buffy sighed and looked down at her wrist, before covering the faint scar with her other hand.

"I don't really know," she admitted with a sigh. "I mean … it was like an out-of-body experience. I was out of my body and … into yours."

Spike raised both brows at that, waiting for her to continue.

"It was like I was the blood, and I could feel myself flow into you. I could feel your demon, even see it – very scary, by the way. Kudos to your FX artist – but I could feel your heart … your soul too."

Spike opened his mouth, clearly to protest, but Buffy held a hand up, stopping him.

The vampire clamped his teeth over his lower lip to cut off whatever he was about to say and let her continue.

"I could feel the bloodlust, Spike, the demon, and the darkness. There was evil there, but there was more. There was a light deep inside, and I was drawn to it like a moth to flame. I'm telling you: your soul didn't leave you – you came back wrong – but it's damaged, just like mine – only worse," she confided, her eyes locked on his in an effort to force him to accept the truth of it.

"It looked like a little brown bird, like a sparrow, with a broken wing – or two broken wings, maybe a broken leg too, some cracked ribs, a black eye, and probably croup, and malnutrition – possibly a vitamin D deficiency," she rambled.

Spike pursed his lips together to keep from laughing at her. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, but he managed to remain silent.

Buffy waved a hand, dismissing the bird's many maladies. "I found it huddled in the glow of a tiny flame, trying to stay out of the darkness. I touched it, Spike. I picked it up and held it against me and it just … glowed. It was so fragile and so afraid, but it trusted me, and it seemed to heal a little as I held it."

Spike's brows raised in a doubtful expression.

"I touched it. It's there," she insisted firmly at his dubious look.

"My soul is a … sparrow? Not a bloody falcon or an eagle … an osprey, maybe?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Little, brown, timid, kinda cute … yeah, that's it."

He frowned at her, looking unconvinced, especially about the sparrow part.

He'd felt that flame glowing inside, it was true, and he'd always felt just a bit 'off' for a vampire. He'd had to work doubly-hard to be the badass-iest vampire he could be to keep Dru, Darla, and Angelus from suspecting anything was amiss.

After the debacle with his mother, he'd begun inciting riots and bloody fists-and-fangs brawls. Those had annoyed Angelus to no end, an extra bonus! But then he'd learned about Slayers. After that, Spike had used them as his focus, as the way to be the evilest vampire in Evilville, by hunting them down and killing as many Slayers as he could. Even if he had 'come back wrong', could there really be a soul in there after all he'd done? Even a broken one? It sounded crazy.

"I know this sounds crazy … it is crazy!" Buffy insisted, as if reading his mind. "But you asked me what happened, so I'm telling you. I was inside you, not just my blood, my … my …" she waved a hand helplessly around her head, searching for a word. "… brainy bits," she finished.

"Brainy bits, is it?" he asked teasingly.

"I have brainy bits – lots of them. They keep my skull from shrinking," she insisted, pouting.

Spike smiled then and nodded. "You do, pet. I love yer brainy bits."

"But you still don't believe me?"

Spike shrugged. "It's a nice thought, pet, but it sounds like a bad acid trip, t' me. You sure you aren't dropping? I've had one or two o' those wild rides, and—"

"It's not nineteen-seventy and I'm not dropping acid!" she declared vehemently.

"Wait, there was more!" she added hastily in an attempt to make him believe her. "When I put the bird back down, I started moving around, away from the flame.

"I got further from the light and deeper into the darkness. Near the darkest parts I saw these little, like … bright, burning fish swimming around in there too. I'm not sure what that was about. You weren't a fisherman or ...?"

Spike snorted and shook his head. "Dru."

"Dru was a fisherman? Fisher-woman … fisher-person?" Buffy asked, her brows furrowing.

Spike laughed. "Dru was…" Spike twirled a finger near his temple, the universal sign for crazy.

"Oh, well … yeah," Buffy agreed, rolling her eyes.

"There was one other thing I remember," Buffy continued. "I couldn't see it really … it was just a word that came to me before I left the light of the flame: effulgent."

Spike started, looking at her sharply.

"That means something to you, doesn't it? What is it?"

Spike shook his head dismissively, averting his eyes from hers. "Just twaddle from … before."

"Before Dru?"

Spike nodded solemnly. "Back when I thought I knew what it was," he breathed out quietly.

"What what was?"

"What love was. What effulgent was," Spike admitted.

Buffy frowned. "What is it?"

Spike looked up into her eyes then, holding her gaze as he answered. "You."

**END NOTES**

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you're still enjoying the story! Please stop in and let me know, I'd seriously love to hear from you!

Thanks also to my wonderful friend, PaganBaby, for sharing her talents with me. Her beta skillz are simply magnificent - any mistakes here are mine because I just can't stop fiddling!

More to come soon!