"Oh, you're still awake," El said, caught in the act of digging through the refrigerator. She had just come down for a glass of water, and then gave into the urge to forage for a late night snack.
"I haven't been sleeping particularly well," said Anya, leaning against the counter. "Do you want something to eat?"
"Uh, just a snack or something," said El, closing the fridge door and feeling a little sheepish. "It's not a big deal."
"I'll make us macaroni and cheese," Anya said decisively. "Do you like hot sauce in yours?"
"Oh, um, yes, but you don't have to do that." But Anya was already pulling out a pot and filling it with water.
"I like eating late at night. It's an agreeably human thing to do."
El wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she let it go in favor of sharing her news. "Giles woke up," she said, and was rewarded by Anya pausing and giving her a huge smile full of relief.
"How was he?" she asked.
"A little incoherent and suspicious of me at first, as you might expect. But then Frarrsh woke up and said I smelled good and that you brought me here and he calmed down. I think he's through the worst of it, he got into a pretty focused questioning mode for a little before he got tired again."
"Questioning mode, that sounds like Giles," Anya said fondly. "What did he want to know? About the books, I'm sure."
"Yes, he did ask about the books." El laughed a little. "But he asked about Willow first, because I guess that guy told him he'd killed her. Sucked out her magic and killed her, it sounded pretty… awful. I was glad to be able to tell him I saw her hale and hearty tonight."
"It was pretty awful." Anya shook her head. "She doesn't have magic anymore though, I suppose there's no reason for you to know that, but. I didn't get there in time to stop the draining."
"You? Stopped him?"
"Yes, I -" Anya cut herself off and looked long at El. "I have my own magic."
"Of course you do." El nodded her head with a small grin. "He asked about you too, you know. And Buffy and Dawn, and Tara and… someone named Xander."
Anya shook the box of pasta into the boiling water with unnecessary. "Oh, that guy. He's fine."
"Giles said he's your fiance?" El couldn't help herself. She knew it was prying, but Anya just didn't seem like she was engaged. For one, she was living in Giles's house with a bunch of demons, not exactly a pre-marital domestic bliss situation.
"He was my fiance," Anya said, shortly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry- well, actually I did," El confessed. "I'm sorry that I meant to pry. It just didn't make sense."
Anya laughed. "Thank you for being honest. And you're right, in any case. It didn't make sense and that's why we're not together any more. A demon hater and a…" she shot another long measuring look at El.
"Demon sympathizer?" El offered.
"Sure, that. Yes. But you know, it was more than that. I don't think he actually even liked me. Maybe I didn't like him. I think we were both just lonely and wanted to feel normal. And get regular orgasms, of course. Not that that was working out for me."
"Are you… are you ok?"
"I'm great, actually," Anya said, and nodded once. "I'm bitter because I wasted time and because it's hard to realize that someone never actually loved the inside of you."
El knew the feeling, and so she reached out and squeezed Anya's shoulder, short and tentative, feeling the other woman's fragile sharp shoulder blade under her palm. Anya smiled at her, sweetly and sadly for just a moment, then blinked and almost shook herself.
"And I miss the sex, I mean I did get orgasms once in a while." Her tone had changed entirely. "Anyway, I share too much, I'm told it's not normal. I hope you're not offended but I AM making you macaroni and cheese so really you can't complain."
"I'm not going to complain," El snorted. "I like it. I like that you're so honest. That's how you make friends, by being vulnerable with them."
"We're friends?" Anya looked so delighted, so hopeful, that it made El's heart feel a little smushed.
"I think we could be getting there, don't you?"
"Well. Yes! Yes I do."
They smiled at each other for a moment, and then the timer rang out. Anya busied herself draining the pasta and mixing the cheese sauce, while El opened cabinets until she found bowls, then opened drawers until she found forks. She looked back over just in time to see Anya happily dump a fourth of a bottle of hot sauce into the mac and cheese. El stifled a squeak, and just laughed to herself instead. She didn't REALLY need that midnight snack. She'd rather have the company.
Buffy was walking home later than she had wanted, but at least the bartender - Bernie turned out to be his name - had held her to her one drink limit. He seemed to have a second sense that she was a lightweight, which made sense. Buffy guessed that was a useful skill if you were serving alcohol. With or without the added benefit of booze, though, Buffy had gotten caught up in watching Spike.
He wasn't spectacular, not talented beyond all compare or anything, but he was passionate and beautiful and seemed like he meant all the words he sang. That was what felt unique to Buffy, captured her attention about his performance. She had eventually settled into enjoying watching him from afar, able to drink him in without worrying about talking to him and messing up.
of her reverie. She slipped her hand to Mr Pointy and moved towards the wall on the right side
The sound of footsteps jarred Buffy out of the street so she couldn't be flanked. The feet were fast, probably preternaturally so. Buffy grinned, suddenly excited at the idea of a good rough and tumble.
"Buffy!" Spike rounded the corner. "Wait up!"
Buffy immediately blushed, the phrase "rough and tumble" continuing to occupy her brain, but now in a totally different capacity.
"Buffy? You ok?" Spike asked, coming alongside her and cocking his head.
"Yes! Totally fine, fine Buffy, that's me, and are you fine?"
"Well, yeh love, I am," preened Spike.
"That's not what I - nevermind." Buffy tossed her head and like days of old, turned to leave the vampire behind.
"Didn't you like the band, then?" Spike asked, following her. Yep, like days of old.
"Your band, you mean? Yeah, who knew you were a pretty decent singer."
"Don't you mean fine?" Spike asked, running his hand suggestively down his torso.
"Quit it, Spike," Buffy said, stopping short and whipping around so that her almost ran into her. "This is too much like before and nothing is like before."
Spike stared at her, the bravado stripped from his beautiful face, and Buffy wanted no more than to throw her arms around him and kiss him until sunup. Maybe it was better if he kept acting like Spike the Pig.
"I'm nervous because you saw my band play," Spike said. "That's all."
Buffy melted a little. "You guys are really good, come on. And you have quite the… following."
"Jealous?" Spike asked, but it lacked any kind of real bite, so Buffy admitted the truth.
"Kind of, to be honest. But also really proud of you, I guess." As Buffy spoke, she realized that was true. "I'm proud of you for doing something legit for employment and for bringing a little bit of normalcy to Sunnydale and for being damn sexy while doing it."
"Damn sexy, huh?" Spike's voice was a little strangled, and he was smiling so hard she thought his face must hurt.
"You know you are, Spike." Buffy's voice was soft now, and despite her better judgement she moved in towards him. "I couldn't stop watching you."
Spike made a noise and reached out for her, then visibly stopped himself. "That means a lot to me, Buffy. To hear. That."
Buffy inched a little closer. It wasn't just seeing him play in a band that had made Spike even hotter to her. Knowing now that she loved him seemed to intensify the pull she always felt around the vampire, like there was warm honey around her heart and lightning jumping through her belly down deeper, to between her legs.
"Spike -" Buffy began, then cut herself off. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, but as she drew closer to him she knew she had to say something. "Are we… good?"
"What do you mean? Were we bad? I mean, I know I am but what are you?" Spike went from startled to growling his last question, which Buffy knew meant he was faking ignorance about what she referred to.
Buffy groped around for how to say it, feeling her thoughts still in a snarl. She could her mom's voice in her head, all the times Joyce had told her to just tell the truth. Telling the truth was so scary, though, and Buffy didn't want to get it wrong. Say something true that drove Spike away further, say something that felt true in the moment but that wasn't actually The Truth. Oh god.
"I - I, well -" Buffy began, fumbling. "The thing is -"
A chorus of screams halted Buffy, the skin-crawling sounds washing over her and the vampire in a wave that was then abruptly cut off. They exchanged a single look, tricky personal interaction shoved aside in an instant, and ran towards the screams.
Buffy couldn't help but feel the thrill of running through the streets with Spike, even as she knew lives were in danger. They moved so well together, turning corners in perfect tandem, anticipating shifts of each other's limbs. It made Buffy feel full and wild and alive, even through the pounding sense of her duty.
When they got to the scene, though, there was no duty to be done. There were no demons or vampires in sight, just a horrifying mess of human pieces that looked familiar to Buffy. She winced at the shredded forms in front of her, but took a step closer.
"These are the same as that first group we found," she said softly. "The guys whose blood was frozen and shattered. There was no chance for us to get here in time…"
"I'm sorry, love," Spike said, taking her hand and pulling her back from the pool of blood and flesh. "There was nothing you could have done, we heard them. It happened in an instant."
"What kind of demon would do this?" Buffy whispered.
"Dunno, pet," Spike said absently. "Never heard of one that could do something like this, but don't mean ol' Alareik didn't dig one up."
"You think he did this?" asked Buffy. "I know we joked about him having a bad sense of humor or whatever, but honestly it doesn't make any sense. What would he get out of it?"
"What do you mean, get out of it?"
"He has to have some purpose, doesn't he? Anya said you wouldn't get any magical energy out of something like this, so it just doesn't make sense for him."
Spike dropped her hand. "Then why would a demon do it?" he countered. "What would a demon get out of it? For that matter, why does the actual killing part have to be a demon? Maybe it's Alareik, direct. You know, that formerly human guy who has bollixed it all up? He has magic of his own, could be a flipping spell couldn't it!"
"I dunno, Spike, a demon would do it because it's a demon?" Buffy felt horribly confused. "I won't rule out the Demon Lord but it seems like a pretty… senseless thing for him to do."
"Trust me," Spike growled, his face suddenly tight. "He can be senseless."
"Why are you being like this? I just want to figure it out."
"... Then we'll talk it over with the Scoobies tomorrow. I have to go." Spike took a few steps away, then turned over his shoulder. "Get out of here. You can't do anything here, go home, Buffy."
Feeling thick and tangled in her stomach, Buffy watched the white head fade into the darkness. It had seemed like things were going to be ok, and then… Buffy shook her head. The smell of death wafted up and hit in the face, and she began moving away on autopilot, feeling like there was a Spike-shaped vacuum at her side.
Guess they weren't all good, after all.