Homecoming pt. 7
"Suppose she did say yes. You can hardly tell me that the Buffy we spoke to in there is acting rationally. She barely knew where we were." Giles tried to contain his anger, but was failing rapidly.
"She has to go somewhere. She won't stay here. She said as much. She gets strong enough, she's comin' with me." Spike paced in the hotel suite sitting room. "I can look after her. She needs that. Hell, I need that." He stopped, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I owe her that."
"You haven't considered the ramifications. Yes, she drank one bowl of soup, and I'm grateful to you." He stepped away. "But that's a far ways from getting back to herself. I fear that serious damage has been done to her, physically and emotionally, and as much as you love her, it may be too much for you to handle." Giles sat on the couch. "She'll continue to stay here."
"But you heard her. She won't stay."
"Keep your voices down," Anya interrupted. "She doesn't need to hear this. You know Buffy. She'll do what she wants to do."
Spike dropped his voice. "She won't stay. She hates puttin' you out. She won't let you sleep on that lumpy pull-out couch any longer."
"Oh," said Anya, "it isn't that lumpy." She caught Giles' eye. "I don't think I was supposed to say that."
Spike was momentarily jarred from Buffy considerations. "You two?" He looked from one to the other. He could swear the Watcher was blushing.
"I didn't have anywhere to go. I'd given up my apartment, and I sure as hell couldn't move in with Xander." She was moving her hands frenetically, talking at an ever quickening pace. "I stayed with D'Hoffryn for a bit, but then he had Willow with him, and I felt like a fifth wheel again, and I wanted to help Buffy, I think I owed her that even though I had no idea about you two but still, and then Rupert came back, and he had this big suite and I could help him with Buffy and ..."
"It's all right, dear." Giles put his arm around her shoulder. "We don't have to explain ourselves."
"Good." She melted into his shoulder. "I felt like I was going to pop."
"Still, Spike," Giles continued, "Buffy needs a great deal of care. She needs to reconnect with life. You don't live in a house, or even an apartment. You live in a mausoleum. As nicely as you may fix it up, a crypt is still a crypt. Do you have heat? Do you have running water? I do not think that you've thought this decision through."
"It's not like there's a lot of options, Rupe. From what I understand, Buffy is less than broke. I'm not exactly swimmin' in it, though I can get my hands on some cash in a fairly legal way if need be. Doubt that you're exactly flush, with plane flights and hotel bills. Bet the Council's cut you off. Besides," he smiled, "you aren't getting any younger." He gestured to Anya. "Time to get on with your own life. Let Buffy be my responsibility now."
"I appreciate all that, Spike, but even if your plan were feasible, from what I understand, that crypt needs major renovation, just to be up to its former level. You've never given any indication that carpentry is your area of expertise. I doubt that you can afford to hire the kind of help to make that crypt a suitable home for Buffy, even temporarily."
There was a knock at the hotel door, and Spike answered it. "Ah, Harris," he exclaimed, "just the man I want ta see."
"Suppose she did say yes. You can hardly tell me that the Buffy we spoke to in there is acting rationally. She barely knew where we were." Giles tried to contain his anger, but was failing rapidly.
"She has to go somewhere. She won't stay here. She said as much. She gets strong enough, she's comin' with me." Spike paced in the hotel suite sitting room. "I can look after her. She needs that. Hell, I need that." He stopped, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I owe her that."
"You haven't considered the ramifications. Yes, she drank one bowl of soup, and I'm grateful to you." He stepped away. "But that's a far ways from getting back to herself. I fear that serious damage has been done to her, physically and emotionally, and as much as you love her, it may be too much for you to handle." Giles sat on the couch. "She'll continue to stay here."
"But you heard her. She won't stay."
"Keep your voices down," Anya interrupted. "She doesn't need to hear this. You know Buffy. She'll do what she wants to do."
Spike dropped his voice. "She won't stay. She hates puttin' you out. She won't let you sleep on that lumpy pull-out couch any longer."
"Oh," said Anya, "it isn't that lumpy." She caught Giles' eye. "I don't think I was supposed to say that."
Spike was momentarily jarred from Buffy considerations. "You two?" He looked from one to the other. He could swear the Watcher was blushing.
"I didn't have anywhere to go. I'd given up my apartment, and I sure as hell couldn't move in with Xander." She was moving her hands frenetically, talking at an ever quickening pace. "I stayed with D'Hoffryn for a bit, but then he had Willow with him, and I felt like a fifth wheel again, and I wanted to help Buffy, I think I owed her that even though I had no idea about you two but still, and then Rupert came back, and he had this big suite and I could help him with Buffy and ..."
"It's all right, dear." Giles put his arm around her shoulder. "We don't have to explain ourselves."
"Good." She melted into his shoulder. "I felt like I was going to pop."
"Still, Spike," Giles continued, "Buffy needs a great deal of care. She needs to reconnect with life. You don't live in a house, or even an apartment. You live in a mausoleum. As nicely as you may fix it up, a crypt is still a crypt. Do you have heat? Do you have running water? I do not think that you've thought this decision through."
"It's not like there's a lot of options, Rupe. From what I understand, Buffy is less than broke. I'm not exactly swimmin' in it, though I can get my hands on some cash in a fairly legal way if need be. Doubt that you're exactly flush, with plane flights and hotel bills. Bet the Council's cut you off. Besides," he smiled, "you aren't getting any younger." He gestured to Anya. "Time to get on with your own life. Let Buffy be my responsibility now."
"I appreciate all that, Spike, but even if your plan were feasible, from what I understand, that crypt needs major renovation, just to be up to its former level. You've never given any indication that carpentry is your area of expertise. I doubt that you can afford to hire the kind of help to make that crypt a suitable home for Buffy, even temporarily."
There was a knock at the hotel door, and Spike answered it. "Ah, Harris," he exclaimed, "just the man I want ta see."