"Dear Kitty," Dawn started in her journal. "Spike's been... back, I
guess, for two days. I was kinda scared when he walked in the door. He
looked... like a caged animal. Ready to fight for his life or something.
He's not normal. Buffy told me, ya know, that he doesn't remember
anything. And I know it's not his fault. But it still hurts. He said
what we remembered made us real, and... he doesn't remember loving me, or
Buffy. I cried the first night. But Buffy's ok. But Buffy's always ok.
She made Willow move in with Xander, till she can be sure, ya know, that
all the Scoobies are protected. They've basically been banned from the
house." Dawn sighed, bit at the end of her purple pen. "Spike yelled at
me. Lately, ya know, he started sleeping at night more, and was awake in
the day. But now, he sleeps like... well, a real vampire. Vampire
hours. And I accidentally woke him up. I don't even know what he said,
but it was snarly, and it wasn't English, so I went upstairs really quick
and locked my door. He didn't even come and pound on it. When me or
Buffy is nice, he just gets this... wary look on his face, like we're
gonna produce a stake out of the air and plunge it in him. He gets
nervous. Jumpy." Dawn's eyes were sad as she finished the entry. "I
miss my big brother. I'm audi. Dawn"
Buffy placed the plate quietly, as softly as possible into the cupboard, being careful to not clang it against the others already stacked. Spike was keeping normal vamp hours again, and she was doing her best to not wake him. With Dawn at school, she had more chores than usual to catch up on.
Spike tossed on the couch. His hypersensitive ears picking up the quiet sounds of dishes being put up. He let out a quiet snarl. Didn't these people know how to be quiet? It was better at the Watcher's. At least his living room was dark most of the time. The light filtering through the curtains was almost blinding. He rolled over and stuck his head between two pillows, snarling again.
Buffy was now done with the dishes, moving on to straightening the counters. When she had done that, she grabbed the trash, opened the door as quietly as possible, even leaving it open while she went outside so that all she had to do was close it when she back in. And when she did, she closed it quietly, so that even to her slayer hearing all she could faintly make out, at less than a foot away from the door, was the quiet click of the latch.
Spike heard the click and gave up trying to sleep. He couldn't sleep anyway. There was a freakin' SLAYER in the next room. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to kill her, or run away, or something. He chose to find the remote. There had to be something on the telly in the afternoon, right? He stood up and began digging around in the couch, looking for the remote, muttering curses in at least three languages.
Buffy peeked her head into the living room. "Are you up?" She said, a soft, hesitant smile on her face.
He snorted. "Yeah. I'm bloody up. Can't sleep." He kept rooting around, then threw his hands up in frustration. "Where's that BLOODY REMOTE!"
She tried to keep the wince off her face. She pointed at the coffee table. "Right there."
He turned around, staring at the remote like it was an alien. "How the hell....?" He could have sworn that he'd looked there before. He snarled at it, then flopped back on the couch and turned the tv on, flipping channels.
She frowned. Yeah, he was a jerk when he didn't get enough sleep, but he was just being an asshole. "I'll uh... get you a mug of blood."
"Don't bother. Not hungry."
Buffy's heart hurt. She could feel him pulling back from their bond, and her claim was letting her know, in spades, that it was being neglected. But she was done tiptoeing around him. "Ya know what, Spike? I know you're not happy about this, but NEITHER am I, and at LEAST I can contain myself enough to not be a JACKASS to the people who are TRYING to help you."
Loud snarl. "Bugger off, Slayer. Leave me alone." 'Why does it hurt....?', he wondered mentally, unaware that she could hear him.
She looked at him, pushed her hair out her face. She was hot. She was hot, and sweaty, and angry, and hurt. "It hurts, Spike," she told him aloud, "because I do." She turned on her heel, and stomped upstairs to slam and lock the bathroom door, turning the shower on.
Spike stayed downstairs, staring at a rerun of Scooby-Doo. Something poked him in his pants pocket, and he resituated himself to pull out his keys. Looked at the new object: a Scooby-Doo. Just like the ones that the Slayer and her pals had. He put the keys back in his pocket and looked at the picture of Joyce at the end of the couch. 'Why can't I remember, Joyce?', he thought at the photo. 'They're all so bleedin' NICE now. And I'm being a jerk. I want to try, but it's scary. What if I wake up, and they hate me again. I wish you were here. I could really use some cocoa now. Who am I kiddin'? It's not the cocoa. It's you. I miss you, Joyce.'
Buffy was in the shower, scrubbing away the dirt, sweat, and the first layer of her epidermis. She heard his words floating through her head, and she felt very naked. Until his words started making sense. She sighed, and started to shampoo her hair. He was trying. Well, not really, but he was scared. And it was understandable. She was going to have to accept it. This wasn't going to fix itself over night. She had to be patient, and understanding. She came downstairs when she had blow- dried her hair, and pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans and a black tank top. She gave herself a rueful look in the mirror, berating herself for continuing to smudge black liner across her eyes, but never stopping. For herself, because she knew Spike wouldn't know the significance of it, she put a thin layer of apple lipgloss on. When she was downstairs, Spike was still staring blankly at the TV. As she walked past him, she swept the remote out of his hand, and flopped down on the opposite side of the couch. Started flipping through the stations.
He started, nearly jumping straight up into the air. "GOD! Slayer! What're you trying to do? Scare me to... uh... dust?" He got quieter as he went on, finally realizing how dumb he sounded, and shut up again. Staring at her flipping through the stations.
Her mouth quirked at the corner. "You realize how lame that was?" It was playful, not mean, and she had pitched her voice carefully to make it so.
He offered a tentative grin. "Yeah. I got that." Reached for the remote.
She jerked it out of his reach. "SO don't think so." She got to the channel she wanted, smiled, sighed and settled into the couch. The Romance Channel.
He snorted and glanced at the tv. "What's this stuff?" Leaned back into the pillows, not really leaning away from her, but not trying to get close either. The claim pulled, but not as bad. Having her close, and not being mean to her had placated it slightly.
She frowned. "A crappy movie. I watched it last week. It ends sad." She flipped a couple more times. Yuh-huh. WE. Women's Entertainment. She smiled. This movie had 'happy ending' written all over it.
He looked from her, to the tv, then back again. "Is this one good?"
Buffy nodded. "Oh yeah. Happy ending."
"Good. I don't like sad endings. Unless I'm in the right mood for it." An effort. Make an effort. "Uh... so. Um. Is there anything else that I don't remember that we didn't go over the other day?"
She shook her head. "I told you everything that happened."
"Oh." Uncomfortable silence. He looked at the walls, at the ceiling, at the tv, and many other things in the room, finally focusing on the picture of Joyce again. Just stared. Then got up and went into the kitchen.
Buffy's face remained forward the whole time. TV. Focus on the TV. Ooh. The movie on the TV. Even better. Not on Spike rooting around in the kitchen for the biggest knife to slit- Bad Buffy! Stop it! Oooooh... these two were gonna hook up... She snorted at the bottle- blonde on the screen, and tried to remind herself that just because nothing SHE would put her hand to in a relationship would ever work out, didn't mean that other people weren't allowed to have a green thumb for relationships.
Spike came back, two mugs in his hands, and a package of marshmallows. He offered one mug to Buffy. "You, uh... want some cocoa? I have marshmallows, too." There was cocoa in his mug, too. Not blood. Cocoa. Huh.
She took it, smiled gratefully. "I'd love some." She took a small sip. "I did forget to tell you something."
He sat down. "Yeah?"
"For, uh... for Dawn's birthday, you and, and Giles sang for her. And you got her a pink rhino, and an opal necklace set in silver."
"Me? Sing? I don't sing." 'In public.'
She shrugged. "Well, you do now... or... then, whatever. And play the guitar."
'Piano. Flute. Violin. Guitar' "Is that right?" Offered her a surprisingly shy grin. "I suck, don't I?"
She shook her head earnestly. "No. And... you sing," 'Bryan Adams' her mind taunted her. "really, really well."
He puzzled at the mental words. Oh, yeah. Claim. Forgot. "You... you really think so?"
She looked into her mug of cocoa. "Well, yeah." Tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
He smiled at her. The first genuine smile in quite some time. "You... You're... nice, Sla- Buffy."
She snorted. "Especially when I'm not attempting to smash your head in?"
"That's a perk."
She sent him a wry grin.
He chuckled quietly. "Is there anything else that I don't remember? Things we do? Didn't the Watcher say that we were supposed to try and do normal things to jog my memory?" He made a face. "Sorry about the barrage of questions."
She nodded. "It's ok. It's kinda... nerve-wracking when you don't ask 'em. We.. went on a date. To a Chinese restaurant. We watched a movie another night, just sat and cuddled on the couch all night." The ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
He cocked his head. "We cuddle?" Let out a quiet laugh. "You just keep surprising me. Who holds who?"
Somewhat defensive, she said, "Yes. *We* cuddle. You... held me."
He nodded. "Sounds... nice."
God. Pain. It was startling and fierce. "It was."
He flinched, unsure if the pain was her's or his. He tentatively scooted closer. Being close made the pain go away. "You... want to show me?"
She looked up at him, slightly shocked. "Do... you want to?"
He thought. "Yeah. I.. do."
She scooted closer, too. "Ok." She laid her head on his shoulder.
He tentatively put an arm around her shoulder. His muscles were tense, nervous about being close to the Slayer, but his emotions were anything but tense. Happiness... Love? Was it there? Yes. Hiding, but there. And he felt it.
Buffy drew in a long breath as his arm slid around her. She could smell him. The scent that was his alone. She had been very unsure if she would ever have felt this again. Without thinking, she turned her body more fully against his, one arm laying across his stomach as she stared at the tv.
He went slightly rigid, then tried to calm down. He loved her. He knew it, he felt it in his heart. In his SOUL. So why was this so hard?
She knew it wasn't the same for him. Not comforting, relaxing. This wasn't... necessary to him. It was going through the motions. And rigidly at that. Her hand crept up a few inches, scratched ever so gently at his ribs.
He twitched slightly at the action, not knowing what to expect, then a wave of contentment began to wash over him. He relaxed, even going as far as to rest his head against hers, his eyes closed. A purr began, extremely softly, and the muscles in his left leg started to jump.
She scratched softly for a little while, then toned it down to a firm rubbing.
He was relaxed now, and the purr got louder. Operating mostly on instinct, he nuzzled her, and pulled her closer to him, sniffing at her hair.
A soft ripple went through her at the action. Her eyes drifted closed, and Buffy sighed.
He felt her relax. More and more, the feelings of being trapped, or tricked, were fading. He felt as if he were surrounded by a comforting blanket, and nothing could get him. It was similar to the way he'd felt around Joyce, but much stronger. Very quiet, in a semi awed voice, "...I love you..."
Her eyes opened, then drooped, as if they were adjusting to a harsh light. It felt so good to hear. And at the same time, it hurt. "I love you, too," she said hoarsely.
He nuzzled her again. "Why? I've never been anything but horrible to you. And you love me?"
It was painful, and confusing. The face, the body, the voice of Spike. The one she fell in love with. But the mind... the mind of the one she fought. "Because... you make Dawn laugh. And you don't leave. Because you care."
He smiled softly. "I like Dawn. She's a lot like your mum.." His voice cracked.
Her hand moved up his chest to rub in comforting circles. "She's a good girl. And a lot like Mom."
He nodded, not trusting his voice anymore. 'Leave it to me to break down in front of the girl I love... again.' Not knowing what to do, he just hugged her tighter, and nuzzled her again, allowing the purr to rise to the high pitched realm of almost words. It was close to going into the constant repeating of "*I love you*" again. He still wasn't sure about this, but he did like it. And not just because it meant that she wouldn't beat him up anymore, either.
Her heart was pumping steadily, but it seemed deeper to her. Harder. Her claim was being sated, his almost-words filling her. Her hand crept up farther still, to touch her mark on him.
He shuddered, and fought down a sudden urge to collapse at her touch. Without opening his eyes, his hand found hers on his neck, and squeezed it slightly. "*Always...*", he purred without thinking, the claim driving his thoughts, speaking what his emotions were screaming at him.
God it hurt. He was so close. And so very far away. The claim tore from her throat the word she was fighting to not say. "Forever."
He pulled back slightly, opening his eyes and looking at her, love for once outweighing confusion in his blue eyes. "Buffy... Can I.. kiss you?"
She looked at him, acquiesce in her eyes, her lips still slightly parted from the word she had spoken.
He leaned forward, eyes closing again as their lips met.
His lips were the same, but the kiss was different. He wasn't sure what to do, not remembering ever kissing a human before. He didn't know if he would hurt her accidentally, or if she needed to breathe... It was confusing. His hands too, seemed confused. He tried to keep them still on her back, but they wandered with a mind of their own.
Her teeth nibbled at his bottom lip, pulling at it. Her hands ran through his hair, down his arms.
He must have been doing something right. He continued to kiss her, allowing one wandering hand to make it's way up her shirt to play on the skin of her back. He began playfully nibbling on her lip as she had with his.
A soft noise escaped her lips.
His excitement was growing, as was hers, he began kissing down her neck, exploring as if it was the first time. To him, it was.
She shuddered. It was... special. Made her feel beautiful. But like she was cheating at the same time. She tried to dismiss the thought. Cheating on Spike with Spike? She tilted her head back.
He continued his way down her neck, pausing every few millimeters to investigate something new. A mole here, a scar there, little hairs that stood up when he played with them. He nuzzled his nose against her neck. She was so warm... So alive... so not like Dru. Better. She actually loved him, and didn't just think she did.
She felt herself laying back, wrapping her arms around him, her short nails gently scoring down his arms.
He encountered his claim mark, and investigated it as well, sniffing, kissing, licking and nuzzling it and the surrounding skin. With every motion, he felt himself getting more excited. Never before. Not even when he'd killed the two Slayers, had he felt like this. 'Angelus was right. Only thing better than killing a Slayer is...' He trailed off, vamped, and his fangs sank into the claim mark.
The pain surprised her, as did his vamping. Her eyes snapped open, and she shoved him away from her, using the strength at her disposal. She almost cried out when the force of her shove tore the fangs from her at a slight angle. She stared at him, for a brief second, the betrayal flashing in her eyes. She pressed a hand to the gash on her throat, and ignoring the fact she was barefoot, fled from the house.
========================================================================== =======
Giles started awake to the ringing of his phone. He stood up, muttering about "bloody loud ringers", and answered it. "Hello?"
"Giles?"
"Buffy? Where are you? There's quite a lot of noise in the background."
"Nowhere. Giles, I need you to pick Dawn up from school, in an hour. And keep her at your place."
"Why? What fo-"
"Can you do that??" She was trying to talk over the noise from the street. "Giles! Can you do it?"
"Well, yes. Of course. What's going on, Buffy? Is it Spike?"
"Everything's fine." All he heard after that was the dial tone.
Giles hung up and shook his head. "Everything's gone to hell..", he muttered to no one in particular.
-======================================================
Buffy slipped in the back door of the Magic Box. Granted, she had forced the knob, but she got in. She'd pay Anya back, if she ever even noticed. She looked to the corner in the back of the training room. She opened her old chest, pulled out what she needed, sliding it into a canvas bag, and slipped back out.
==========================================================================
Spike paced back and forth in front of the now silent tv. "Ok. I love her. She claimed me. I claimed her, and yet I can't bite her. She's mad, and she left! I've never run her off before. Especially when I wasn't trying to!" He stopped, picked up the photo of Joyce, and went back to pacing, talking to it. "What do I do, Joyce?", the distraught vampire asked the photo. To his surprise, he felt as if there was a hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the kitchen. Not knowing what to expect, he let it lead him. There was a mug of cocoa that he KNEW he hadn't fixed sitting on the table. He sat down, placing the photo at Joyce's usual place, stared at the cocoa.
'Drink it,' a voice that seemed to come from inside his head, as well as the picture said. Joyce's voice.
He was confused at first, but it was so familiar, so... right, that it stopped being strange after a moment. He took a sip.
'Good boy. Now, what's bothering you today?'
"Your daughter. What else?"
'Very funny.'
"I'm not bloody kidding she's driving me fu-"
'Language.'
His mouth closed. "Sorry. She's driving me crazy. Says she loves me, and I try to express how I feel, and she tosses me across the room. What did I do wrong?"
'What part of you were you listening to?'
"Part of me? Like an arm, or a leg?"
'We both know what I mean, William.'
Spike winced, she only called him William when she was pis- mad at him. "Sorry. You mean the vampire part."
'No. I mean the soul. What did it say about what you did? Before you actually did it.'
He went internal, thought. "Didn't like it. But the demon did."
'Buffy loves you, Spike. She does. I'm her mother. I know. But you scared her by listening to the wrong part. Pay attention to the soul. You got it for a reason, remember?'
"I wish I could remember."
The photo seemed to be smiling right at him. 'I'll help you remember.'
At that moment, the front door slammed open. While she had been stalking to her house, Buffy pulled a stake from the bag, tucking it into the back of her jeans. She jerked the door open, slammed it shut, and dropped the bag to her left. Buffy's stormy eyes swept the living room, knowing before she even did that he wasn't there. "I'LL FIND YOU!" she called defiantly.
"In here," the vampire called from the kitchen, snapping his eyes away from the photo of Joyce and shaking his head to get rid of the fuzzy feeling.
Buffy stalked in, straight up to him. She close-fisted bitch slapped him.
He was knocked clean out of his chair and onto the floor, his head swimming from cracking against the counter. He could almost hear Joyce yell, 'BUFFY!'. He shook his head again. "Ok. It's ok. I deserved it..."
Sharp fist to his nose. "No. Shit." There was a crack as the Slayer broke his nose for the 3000th time, and blood streamed from it. Still, he fought the urge to hit her back.
She pinned him to the floor, yanked the stake from her pants to brandish it in front of his bloodied face. Her own wound had closed, leaving only chilling streaks of dried blood down her throat. His eyes widened at the sight of the stake, and then closed, preparing to open upon a hell dimension.
"The *only* reason this is not making you a nice present for my Dirt Devil is *this*," she ground out.
Opened one eye. "Is what?" Quiet, slightly scared voice.
"The man that I love is buried beneath your filth." Her eyes burned, with fury and tears. "So we can do this the easy way, or my way... the REALLY painful way. Chose. Because either way, you're going to wind up chained to something."
His eyes burned with tears both from her yelling at him, and from the excruciating pain in his nose. "I've had enough pain for tonight, Slayer. Easy way."
She yanked him up by the front of his shirt. "Don't move." She didn't even bother with an ultimatum.
He froze, glancing at the picture of Joyce through watery eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like she was suddenly frowning at both of them.
Buffy returned in less than a minute, tossing the canvas bag to the floor, reaching in for the chains and cuffs.
He just watched her, glancing every now and then to the photo, which was now grimacing at the chains. 'Weird,' he thought. 'Thought I was dreaming... Dunno what to think now..'
She faced him, her features blank. She was the Slayer.
He looked away, avoiding her eyes, falling back on ancient vampiric instinct that said 'never look an angry superior in the eyes. They will surely attack and kill you.' It was something that was passed through most demon species, and can be found in most animal species that operate in packs or groups. He was clearly stating that Buffy was in charge, and he wouldn't fight her.
"Living room."
He marched, pausing in front of the tv, waiting for further instructions, staring at his shoes.
She trailed him, dragging behind her, along with the chains, a dining room chair. She tossed the chair to the left of the window, knowing the sun wouldn't touch him. "Sit."
He sat, staring at the carpet now.
"Hands."
His hands went behind his back, after wiping at the blood on his face on last time.
She shackled his wrists, then ankles, connecting them with a medium length of chain. She modified her design to her content, knowing he wouldn't be able to move from the chair. Not without considerable noise, at any rate. She stood in front of him, her eyes taking in the beaten visage. The woman slipped in, aching.
He wouldn't look up, didn't move, didn't breathe. He was a corpse tied to a chair.
She went to the kitchen, came back with a wet papertowel. One hand took his chin, the other wiped gently at the blood. She swallowed. "Do you want me to set it?"
Winced, didn't look her in the eyes. "... guess so..."
She set her thumbs on either side of his nose. "...gonna hurt..." The words slipped before she could check them.
His eyes closed, and he gritted his teeth.
She felt the pain as she snapped the bridge of his nose back in place.
Externally, he barely flinched. Internally, he screamed in pain. His nose had always been extremely sensitive to pain, and his eyes watered uncontrollably.
She wiped at a final trickle of blood, and went to the kitchen to dispose of the bloodied cloth. When she returned, she had an icepack, wrapped in a towel. She set it gently on his nose.
He flinched, whimpering before he could stop himself.
The woman had replaced the warrior. "You lied to me." The words were quiet, pained.
"I did?" His tone was almost the same as hers.
"I can barely remember the last time you lied to me." Her eyes locked on his, betrayal so easily read. "You said you'd never make me choose between my duty and my heart."
"I... I didn't...."
She looked at him in disbelief. "*Angelus* was right? The only thing better than killing a slayer is what, Spike?" Anger over-rid the pain. "WHAT, while you TEAR at my neck?" She tossed the icepack angrily against the wall.
His eyes got big, and he looked up before he could stop himself. "You don't know what he said! You don't know what I was agreeing to!" He looked down again. "And I can't tell you."
She gave him a look of open disgust. "You don't HAVE to tell me. You said it the first time we had sex. Screwing one. At least then you had the brains to not try to suck me dry."
"That wasn't what I was going to say. It wasn't what he'd said. And it wasn't what I meant." He snorted, then moaned at the pain in his nose. "Suppose he can't kill me over something he doesn't even know I overheard. The quote is: The only thing better than killing a Slayer is loving one. He said it after you two were possessed by those ghosts at the old school. He went through this big production of washin' his mouth out, and then he was sitting all alone in his room, I rolled past the door, and overheard him muttering to himself. That's what it was."
The hurt was still there, throbbing in her eyes and heart. "You BIT me."
If he could have, he would have thrown his hands in the air. "That's what vampires DO! To show affection, to cement a bond, to say they care! I didn't mean to hurt you, Buffy."
She shook her head, vehemently. "No. No. You- Spike- MY Spike... claiming and cementing, he TOLD me, don't have to hurt."
He looked down. "That's because I did it wrong. I bit the wrong place. I was excited. Worked up. And I bit you as if I was going to feed, instead of claim. It was an accident. I'm still new at this."
She lifted a hand to scrub at the base of her neck, where a small pool of blood had dried. "I can't let you out. I can't let my sister live here."
He looked up. "Dawn's not coming home?"
Disbelief was splashed across her features. "You think she should?"
"I'm... I don't want... I won't hurt her, or any of them. And it... hurts... that you think I do." Cocked his head. "Well, maybe I want to hurt Harris. But that's normal."
"Well, I'm very sorry that it hurts your feelings. But when it comes down to your feelings being stepped on, or their lives, their lives are gonna win. How can you expect me to let Dawn stay here, when I'm not even thoroughly convinced of everything you said? And do you think for one *minute* that I want her to see you *chained* to a *chair*?"
He nodded, looking down again. "You're right, luv. She should stay with the Wat- Rupert. Or one of the others if he's busy. You have no reason to trust me right now. I don't even think I trust me right now." He looked at her. "I'm trying, luv. I really am. I'm trying to remember. I want to remember. All you've told me, aside from a few things, sound like a dream come true. Real friends. Family. Parties, games, dates. Actually having someone who loves me for the first time in my life. I want that more that you can ever know." A single tear ran down his cheek.
One tear won against Buffy, too, and she looked utterly defeated. "It was a dream come true, Spike... which is why I should have known something like this would happen." She sighed, scrubbed again at her neck. The dried blood was flaking, slightly itchy. The cut had healed, for the most part, leaving now only a sickly yellow bruise. She shook her head. "I don't... I don't know what to do. Giles... he'll be coming over around midnight, after Dawn is asleep, safe. He'll... he'll help me. Figure something out."
"Ok. As long as it doesn't involve me and a stake, I'll do my best to help." He glanced into the kitchen. "Uh, luv?"
"What?"
"Could you go get Joyce's picture out of the kitchen? I'd like it back on the end table again."
She sighed, retrieved it, set it gently, reverently, on the end table, her fingers sweeping over the glass absently, a gesture obviously ingrained, automatic, but never losing meaning.
He stared at the picture, wondering if she'd come back. But it was just a picture again. He shook his head. 'I'm nuttier than Dru... Talking photos. What's next?'
Buffy looked at Spike. "I'm going upstairs. And showering. I'll probably stay there till Giles gets here. Do you... need anything?"
He shook his head again, giving the photo one last glance before turning his attention to the Slayer. "No. I'll just... take a nap. Feelin' really tired."
She nodded, went to the curtains, pulled them tightly closed. "Blanket?"
"No. Thanks, though. I'll be fine here." He shifted a little. It wasn't the first time he'd had to sleep in a chair, after all. "Night, luv."
She felt guilty, and justified at the same time. She grabbed a pillow, pushing on his shoulder till he leaned up, dropped it between his back and the hard wood of the chair, draped the blanket over him anyway. She headed for the stairs, stopped at the doorway of the living room. "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?"
Without looking back, she said quietly, "My mother loved you."
"I know," he said, glancing at the photo. "Believe me. I know."
Buffy placed the plate quietly, as softly as possible into the cupboard, being careful to not clang it against the others already stacked. Spike was keeping normal vamp hours again, and she was doing her best to not wake him. With Dawn at school, she had more chores than usual to catch up on.
Spike tossed on the couch. His hypersensitive ears picking up the quiet sounds of dishes being put up. He let out a quiet snarl. Didn't these people know how to be quiet? It was better at the Watcher's. At least his living room was dark most of the time. The light filtering through the curtains was almost blinding. He rolled over and stuck his head between two pillows, snarling again.
Buffy was now done with the dishes, moving on to straightening the counters. When she had done that, she grabbed the trash, opened the door as quietly as possible, even leaving it open while she went outside so that all she had to do was close it when she back in. And when she did, she closed it quietly, so that even to her slayer hearing all she could faintly make out, at less than a foot away from the door, was the quiet click of the latch.
Spike heard the click and gave up trying to sleep. He couldn't sleep anyway. There was a freakin' SLAYER in the next room. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to kill her, or run away, or something. He chose to find the remote. There had to be something on the telly in the afternoon, right? He stood up and began digging around in the couch, looking for the remote, muttering curses in at least three languages.
Buffy peeked her head into the living room. "Are you up?" She said, a soft, hesitant smile on her face.
He snorted. "Yeah. I'm bloody up. Can't sleep." He kept rooting around, then threw his hands up in frustration. "Where's that BLOODY REMOTE!"
She tried to keep the wince off her face. She pointed at the coffee table. "Right there."
He turned around, staring at the remote like it was an alien. "How the hell....?" He could have sworn that he'd looked there before. He snarled at it, then flopped back on the couch and turned the tv on, flipping channels.
She frowned. Yeah, he was a jerk when he didn't get enough sleep, but he was just being an asshole. "I'll uh... get you a mug of blood."
"Don't bother. Not hungry."
Buffy's heart hurt. She could feel him pulling back from their bond, and her claim was letting her know, in spades, that it was being neglected. But she was done tiptoeing around him. "Ya know what, Spike? I know you're not happy about this, but NEITHER am I, and at LEAST I can contain myself enough to not be a JACKASS to the people who are TRYING to help you."
Loud snarl. "Bugger off, Slayer. Leave me alone." 'Why does it hurt....?', he wondered mentally, unaware that she could hear him.
She looked at him, pushed her hair out her face. She was hot. She was hot, and sweaty, and angry, and hurt. "It hurts, Spike," she told him aloud, "because I do." She turned on her heel, and stomped upstairs to slam and lock the bathroom door, turning the shower on.
Spike stayed downstairs, staring at a rerun of Scooby-Doo. Something poked him in his pants pocket, and he resituated himself to pull out his keys. Looked at the new object: a Scooby-Doo. Just like the ones that the Slayer and her pals had. He put the keys back in his pocket and looked at the picture of Joyce at the end of the couch. 'Why can't I remember, Joyce?', he thought at the photo. 'They're all so bleedin' NICE now. And I'm being a jerk. I want to try, but it's scary. What if I wake up, and they hate me again. I wish you were here. I could really use some cocoa now. Who am I kiddin'? It's not the cocoa. It's you. I miss you, Joyce.'
Buffy was in the shower, scrubbing away the dirt, sweat, and the first layer of her epidermis. She heard his words floating through her head, and she felt very naked. Until his words started making sense. She sighed, and started to shampoo her hair. He was trying. Well, not really, but he was scared. And it was understandable. She was going to have to accept it. This wasn't going to fix itself over night. She had to be patient, and understanding. She came downstairs when she had blow- dried her hair, and pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans and a black tank top. She gave herself a rueful look in the mirror, berating herself for continuing to smudge black liner across her eyes, but never stopping. For herself, because she knew Spike wouldn't know the significance of it, she put a thin layer of apple lipgloss on. When she was downstairs, Spike was still staring blankly at the TV. As she walked past him, she swept the remote out of his hand, and flopped down on the opposite side of the couch. Started flipping through the stations.
He started, nearly jumping straight up into the air. "GOD! Slayer! What're you trying to do? Scare me to... uh... dust?" He got quieter as he went on, finally realizing how dumb he sounded, and shut up again. Staring at her flipping through the stations.
Her mouth quirked at the corner. "You realize how lame that was?" It was playful, not mean, and she had pitched her voice carefully to make it so.
He offered a tentative grin. "Yeah. I got that." Reached for the remote.
She jerked it out of his reach. "SO don't think so." She got to the channel she wanted, smiled, sighed and settled into the couch. The Romance Channel.
He snorted and glanced at the tv. "What's this stuff?" Leaned back into the pillows, not really leaning away from her, but not trying to get close either. The claim pulled, but not as bad. Having her close, and not being mean to her had placated it slightly.
She frowned. "A crappy movie. I watched it last week. It ends sad." She flipped a couple more times. Yuh-huh. WE. Women's Entertainment. She smiled. This movie had 'happy ending' written all over it.
He looked from her, to the tv, then back again. "Is this one good?"
Buffy nodded. "Oh yeah. Happy ending."
"Good. I don't like sad endings. Unless I'm in the right mood for it." An effort. Make an effort. "Uh... so. Um. Is there anything else that I don't remember that we didn't go over the other day?"
She shook her head. "I told you everything that happened."
"Oh." Uncomfortable silence. He looked at the walls, at the ceiling, at the tv, and many other things in the room, finally focusing on the picture of Joyce again. Just stared. Then got up and went into the kitchen.
Buffy's face remained forward the whole time. TV. Focus on the TV. Ooh. The movie on the TV. Even better. Not on Spike rooting around in the kitchen for the biggest knife to slit- Bad Buffy! Stop it! Oooooh... these two were gonna hook up... She snorted at the bottle- blonde on the screen, and tried to remind herself that just because nothing SHE would put her hand to in a relationship would ever work out, didn't mean that other people weren't allowed to have a green thumb for relationships.
Spike came back, two mugs in his hands, and a package of marshmallows. He offered one mug to Buffy. "You, uh... want some cocoa? I have marshmallows, too." There was cocoa in his mug, too. Not blood. Cocoa. Huh.
She took it, smiled gratefully. "I'd love some." She took a small sip. "I did forget to tell you something."
He sat down. "Yeah?"
"For, uh... for Dawn's birthday, you and, and Giles sang for her. And you got her a pink rhino, and an opal necklace set in silver."
"Me? Sing? I don't sing." 'In public.'
She shrugged. "Well, you do now... or... then, whatever. And play the guitar."
'Piano. Flute. Violin. Guitar' "Is that right?" Offered her a surprisingly shy grin. "I suck, don't I?"
She shook her head earnestly. "No. And... you sing," 'Bryan Adams' her mind taunted her. "really, really well."
He puzzled at the mental words. Oh, yeah. Claim. Forgot. "You... you really think so?"
She looked into her mug of cocoa. "Well, yeah." Tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
He smiled at her. The first genuine smile in quite some time. "You... You're... nice, Sla- Buffy."
She snorted. "Especially when I'm not attempting to smash your head in?"
"That's a perk."
She sent him a wry grin.
He chuckled quietly. "Is there anything else that I don't remember? Things we do? Didn't the Watcher say that we were supposed to try and do normal things to jog my memory?" He made a face. "Sorry about the barrage of questions."
She nodded. "It's ok. It's kinda... nerve-wracking when you don't ask 'em. We.. went on a date. To a Chinese restaurant. We watched a movie another night, just sat and cuddled on the couch all night." The ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
He cocked his head. "We cuddle?" Let out a quiet laugh. "You just keep surprising me. Who holds who?"
Somewhat defensive, she said, "Yes. *We* cuddle. You... held me."
He nodded. "Sounds... nice."
God. Pain. It was startling and fierce. "It was."
He flinched, unsure if the pain was her's or his. He tentatively scooted closer. Being close made the pain go away. "You... want to show me?"
She looked up at him, slightly shocked. "Do... you want to?"
He thought. "Yeah. I.. do."
She scooted closer, too. "Ok." She laid her head on his shoulder.
He tentatively put an arm around her shoulder. His muscles were tense, nervous about being close to the Slayer, but his emotions were anything but tense. Happiness... Love? Was it there? Yes. Hiding, but there. And he felt it.
Buffy drew in a long breath as his arm slid around her. She could smell him. The scent that was his alone. She had been very unsure if she would ever have felt this again. Without thinking, she turned her body more fully against his, one arm laying across his stomach as she stared at the tv.
He went slightly rigid, then tried to calm down. He loved her. He knew it, he felt it in his heart. In his SOUL. So why was this so hard?
She knew it wasn't the same for him. Not comforting, relaxing. This wasn't... necessary to him. It was going through the motions. And rigidly at that. Her hand crept up a few inches, scratched ever so gently at his ribs.
He twitched slightly at the action, not knowing what to expect, then a wave of contentment began to wash over him. He relaxed, even going as far as to rest his head against hers, his eyes closed. A purr began, extremely softly, and the muscles in his left leg started to jump.
She scratched softly for a little while, then toned it down to a firm rubbing.
He was relaxed now, and the purr got louder. Operating mostly on instinct, he nuzzled her, and pulled her closer to him, sniffing at her hair.
A soft ripple went through her at the action. Her eyes drifted closed, and Buffy sighed.
He felt her relax. More and more, the feelings of being trapped, or tricked, were fading. He felt as if he were surrounded by a comforting blanket, and nothing could get him. It was similar to the way he'd felt around Joyce, but much stronger. Very quiet, in a semi awed voice, "...I love you..."
Her eyes opened, then drooped, as if they were adjusting to a harsh light. It felt so good to hear. And at the same time, it hurt. "I love you, too," she said hoarsely.
He nuzzled her again. "Why? I've never been anything but horrible to you. And you love me?"
It was painful, and confusing. The face, the body, the voice of Spike. The one she fell in love with. But the mind... the mind of the one she fought. "Because... you make Dawn laugh. And you don't leave. Because you care."
He smiled softly. "I like Dawn. She's a lot like your mum.." His voice cracked.
Her hand moved up his chest to rub in comforting circles. "She's a good girl. And a lot like Mom."
He nodded, not trusting his voice anymore. 'Leave it to me to break down in front of the girl I love... again.' Not knowing what to do, he just hugged her tighter, and nuzzled her again, allowing the purr to rise to the high pitched realm of almost words. It was close to going into the constant repeating of "*I love you*" again. He still wasn't sure about this, but he did like it. And not just because it meant that she wouldn't beat him up anymore, either.
Her heart was pumping steadily, but it seemed deeper to her. Harder. Her claim was being sated, his almost-words filling her. Her hand crept up farther still, to touch her mark on him.
He shuddered, and fought down a sudden urge to collapse at her touch. Without opening his eyes, his hand found hers on his neck, and squeezed it slightly. "*Always...*", he purred without thinking, the claim driving his thoughts, speaking what his emotions were screaming at him.
God it hurt. He was so close. And so very far away. The claim tore from her throat the word she was fighting to not say. "Forever."
He pulled back slightly, opening his eyes and looking at her, love for once outweighing confusion in his blue eyes. "Buffy... Can I.. kiss you?"
She looked at him, acquiesce in her eyes, her lips still slightly parted from the word she had spoken.
He leaned forward, eyes closing again as their lips met.
His lips were the same, but the kiss was different. He wasn't sure what to do, not remembering ever kissing a human before. He didn't know if he would hurt her accidentally, or if she needed to breathe... It was confusing. His hands too, seemed confused. He tried to keep them still on her back, but they wandered with a mind of their own.
Her teeth nibbled at his bottom lip, pulling at it. Her hands ran through his hair, down his arms.
He must have been doing something right. He continued to kiss her, allowing one wandering hand to make it's way up her shirt to play on the skin of her back. He began playfully nibbling on her lip as she had with his.
A soft noise escaped her lips.
His excitement was growing, as was hers, he began kissing down her neck, exploring as if it was the first time. To him, it was.
She shuddered. It was... special. Made her feel beautiful. But like she was cheating at the same time. She tried to dismiss the thought. Cheating on Spike with Spike? She tilted her head back.
He continued his way down her neck, pausing every few millimeters to investigate something new. A mole here, a scar there, little hairs that stood up when he played with them. He nuzzled his nose against her neck. She was so warm... So alive... so not like Dru. Better. She actually loved him, and didn't just think she did.
She felt herself laying back, wrapping her arms around him, her short nails gently scoring down his arms.
He encountered his claim mark, and investigated it as well, sniffing, kissing, licking and nuzzling it and the surrounding skin. With every motion, he felt himself getting more excited. Never before. Not even when he'd killed the two Slayers, had he felt like this. 'Angelus was right. Only thing better than killing a Slayer is...' He trailed off, vamped, and his fangs sank into the claim mark.
The pain surprised her, as did his vamping. Her eyes snapped open, and she shoved him away from her, using the strength at her disposal. She almost cried out when the force of her shove tore the fangs from her at a slight angle. She stared at him, for a brief second, the betrayal flashing in her eyes. She pressed a hand to the gash on her throat, and ignoring the fact she was barefoot, fled from the house.
========================================================================== =======
Giles started awake to the ringing of his phone. He stood up, muttering about "bloody loud ringers", and answered it. "Hello?"
"Giles?"
"Buffy? Where are you? There's quite a lot of noise in the background."
"Nowhere. Giles, I need you to pick Dawn up from school, in an hour. And keep her at your place."
"Why? What fo-"
"Can you do that??" She was trying to talk over the noise from the street. "Giles! Can you do it?"
"Well, yes. Of course. What's going on, Buffy? Is it Spike?"
"Everything's fine." All he heard after that was the dial tone.
Giles hung up and shook his head. "Everything's gone to hell..", he muttered to no one in particular.
-======================================================
Buffy slipped in the back door of the Magic Box. Granted, she had forced the knob, but she got in. She'd pay Anya back, if she ever even noticed. She looked to the corner in the back of the training room. She opened her old chest, pulled out what she needed, sliding it into a canvas bag, and slipped back out.
==========================================================================
Spike paced back and forth in front of the now silent tv. "Ok. I love her. She claimed me. I claimed her, and yet I can't bite her. She's mad, and she left! I've never run her off before. Especially when I wasn't trying to!" He stopped, picked up the photo of Joyce, and went back to pacing, talking to it. "What do I do, Joyce?", the distraught vampire asked the photo. To his surprise, he felt as if there was a hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the kitchen. Not knowing what to expect, he let it lead him. There was a mug of cocoa that he KNEW he hadn't fixed sitting on the table. He sat down, placing the photo at Joyce's usual place, stared at the cocoa.
'Drink it,' a voice that seemed to come from inside his head, as well as the picture said. Joyce's voice.
He was confused at first, but it was so familiar, so... right, that it stopped being strange after a moment. He took a sip.
'Good boy. Now, what's bothering you today?'
"Your daughter. What else?"
'Very funny.'
"I'm not bloody kidding she's driving me fu-"
'Language.'
His mouth closed. "Sorry. She's driving me crazy. Says she loves me, and I try to express how I feel, and she tosses me across the room. What did I do wrong?"
'What part of you were you listening to?'
"Part of me? Like an arm, or a leg?"
'We both know what I mean, William.'
Spike winced, she only called him William when she was pis- mad at him. "Sorry. You mean the vampire part."
'No. I mean the soul. What did it say about what you did? Before you actually did it.'
He went internal, thought. "Didn't like it. But the demon did."
'Buffy loves you, Spike. She does. I'm her mother. I know. But you scared her by listening to the wrong part. Pay attention to the soul. You got it for a reason, remember?'
"I wish I could remember."
The photo seemed to be smiling right at him. 'I'll help you remember.'
At that moment, the front door slammed open. While she had been stalking to her house, Buffy pulled a stake from the bag, tucking it into the back of her jeans. She jerked the door open, slammed it shut, and dropped the bag to her left. Buffy's stormy eyes swept the living room, knowing before she even did that he wasn't there. "I'LL FIND YOU!" she called defiantly.
"In here," the vampire called from the kitchen, snapping his eyes away from the photo of Joyce and shaking his head to get rid of the fuzzy feeling.
Buffy stalked in, straight up to him. She close-fisted bitch slapped him.
He was knocked clean out of his chair and onto the floor, his head swimming from cracking against the counter. He could almost hear Joyce yell, 'BUFFY!'. He shook his head again. "Ok. It's ok. I deserved it..."
Sharp fist to his nose. "No. Shit." There was a crack as the Slayer broke his nose for the 3000th time, and blood streamed from it. Still, he fought the urge to hit her back.
She pinned him to the floor, yanked the stake from her pants to brandish it in front of his bloodied face. Her own wound had closed, leaving only chilling streaks of dried blood down her throat. His eyes widened at the sight of the stake, and then closed, preparing to open upon a hell dimension.
"The *only* reason this is not making you a nice present for my Dirt Devil is *this*," she ground out.
Opened one eye. "Is what?" Quiet, slightly scared voice.
"The man that I love is buried beneath your filth." Her eyes burned, with fury and tears. "So we can do this the easy way, or my way... the REALLY painful way. Chose. Because either way, you're going to wind up chained to something."
His eyes burned with tears both from her yelling at him, and from the excruciating pain in his nose. "I've had enough pain for tonight, Slayer. Easy way."
She yanked him up by the front of his shirt. "Don't move." She didn't even bother with an ultimatum.
He froze, glancing at the picture of Joyce through watery eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like she was suddenly frowning at both of them.
Buffy returned in less than a minute, tossing the canvas bag to the floor, reaching in for the chains and cuffs.
He just watched her, glancing every now and then to the photo, which was now grimacing at the chains. 'Weird,' he thought. 'Thought I was dreaming... Dunno what to think now..'
She faced him, her features blank. She was the Slayer.
He looked away, avoiding her eyes, falling back on ancient vampiric instinct that said 'never look an angry superior in the eyes. They will surely attack and kill you.' It was something that was passed through most demon species, and can be found in most animal species that operate in packs or groups. He was clearly stating that Buffy was in charge, and he wouldn't fight her.
"Living room."
He marched, pausing in front of the tv, waiting for further instructions, staring at his shoes.
She trailed him, dragging behind her, along with the chains, a dining room chair. She tossed the chair to the left of the window, knowing the sun wouldn't touch him. "Sit."
He sat, staring at the carpet now.
"Hands."
His hands went behind his back, after wiping at the blood on his face on last time.
She shackled his wrists, then ankles, connecting them with a medium length of chain. She modified her design to her content, knowing he wouldn't be able to move from the chair. Not without considerable noise, at any rate. She stood in front of him, her eyes taking in the beaten visage. The woman slipped in, aching.
He wouldn't look up, didn't move, didn't breathe. He was a corpse tied to a chair.
She went to the kitchen, came back with a wet papertowel. One hand took his chin, the other wiped gently at the blood. She swallowed. "Do you want me to set it?"
Winced, didn't look her in the eyes. "... guess so..."
She set her thumbs on either side of his nose. "...gonna hurt..." The words slipped before she could check them.
His eyes closed, and he gritted his teeth.
She felt the pain as she snapped the bridge of his nose back in place.
Externally, he barely flinched. Internally, he screamed in pain. His nose had always been extremely sensitive to pain, and his eyes watered uncontrollably.
She wiped at a final trickle of blood, and went to the kitchen to dispose of the bloodied cloth. When she returned, she had an icepack, wrapped in a towel. She set it gently on his nose.
He flinched, whimpering before he could stop himself.
The woman had replaced the warrior. "You lied to me." The words were quiet, pained.
"I did?" His tone was almost the same as hers.
"I can barely remember the last time you lied to me." Her eyes locked on his, betrayal so easily read. "You said you'd never make me choose between my duty and my heart."
"I... I didn't...."
She looked at him in disbelief. "*Angelus* was right? The only thing better than killing a slayer is what, Spike?" Anger over-rid the pain. "WHAT, while you TEAR at my neck?" She tossed the icepack angrily against the wall.
His eyes got big, and he looked up before he could stop himself. "You don't know what he said! You don't know what I was agreeing to!" He looked down again. "And I can't tell you."
She gave him a look of open disgust. "You don't HAVE to tell me. You said it the first time we had sex. Screwing one. At least then you had the brains to not try to suck me dry."
"That wasn't what I was going to say. It wasn't what he'd said. And it wasn't what I meant." He snorted, then moaned at the pain in his nose. "Suppose he can't kill me over something he doesn't even know I overheard. The quote is: The only thing better than killing a Slayer is loving one. He said it after you two were possessed by those ghosts at the old school. He went through this big production of washin' his mouth out, and then he was sitting all alone in his room, I rolled past the door, and overheard him muttering to himself. That's what it was."
The hurt was still there, throbbing in her eyes and heart. "You BIT me."
If he could have, he would have thrown his hands in the air. "That's what vampires DO! To show affection, to cement a bond, to say they care! I didn't mean to hurt you, Buffy."
She shook her head, vehemently. "No. No. You- Spike- MY Spike... claiming and cementing, he TOLD me, don't have to hurt."
He looked down. "That's because I did it wrong. I bit the wrong place. I was excited. Worked up. And I bit you as if I was going to feed, instead of claim. It was an accident. I'm still new at this."
She lifted a hand to scrub at the base of her neck, where a small pool of blood had dried. "I can't let you out. I can't let my sister live here."
He looked up. "Dawn's not coming home?"
Disbelief was splashed across her features. "You think she should?"
"I'm... I don't want... I won't hurt her, or any of them. And it... hurts... that you think I do." Cocked his head. "Well, maybe I want to hurt Harris. But that's normal."
"Well, I'm very sorry that it hurts your feelings. But when it comes down to your feelings being stepped on, or their lives, their lives are gonna win. How can you expect me to let Dawn stay here, when I'm not even thoroughly convinced of everything you said? And do you think for one *minute* that I want her to see you *chained* to a *chair*?"
He nodded, looking down again. "You're right, luv. She should stay with the Wat- Rupert. Or one of the others if he's busy. You have no reason to trust me right now. I don't even think I trust me right now." He looked at her. "I'm trying, luv. I really am. I'm trying to remember. I want to remember. All you've told me, aside from a few things, sound like a dream come true. Real friends. Family. Parties, games, dates. Actually having someone who loves me for the first time in my life. I want that more that you can ever know." A single tear ran down his cheek.
One tear won against Buffy, too, and she looked utterly defeated. "It was a dream come true, Spike... which is why I should have known something like this would happen." She sighed, scrubbed again at her neck. The dried blood was flaking, slightly itchy. The cut had healed, for the most part, leaving now only a sickly yellow bruise. She shook her head. "I don't... I don't know what to do. Giles... he'll be coming over around midnight, after Dawn is asleep, safe. He'll... he'll help me. Figure something out."
"Ok. As long as it doesn't involve me and a stake, I'll do my best to help." He glanced into the kitchen. "Uh, luv?"
"What?"
"Could you go get Joyce's picture out of the kitchen? I'd like it back on the end table again."
She sighed, retrieved it, set it gently, reverently, on the end table, her fingers sweeping over the glass absently, a gesture obviously ingrained, automatic, but never losing meaning.
He stared at the picture, wondering if she'd come back. But it was just a picture again. He shook his head. 'I'm nuttier than Dru... Talking photos. What's next?'
Buffy looked at Spike. "I'm going upstairs. And showering. I'll probably stay there till Giles gets here. Do you... need anything?"
He shook his head again, giving the photo one last glance before turning his attention to the Slayer. "No. I'll just... take a nap. Feelin' really tired."
She nodded, went to the curtains, pulled them tightly closed. "Blanket?"
"No. Thanks, though. I'll be fine here." He shifted a little. It wasn't the first time he'd had to sleep in a chair, after all. "Night, luv."
She felt guilty, and justified at the same time. She grabbed a pillow, pushing on his shoulder till he leaned up, dropped it between his back and the hard wood of the chair, draped the blanket over him anyway. She headed for the stairs, stopped at the doorway of the living room. "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?"
Without looking back, she said quietly, "My mother loved you."
"I know," he said, glancing at the photo. "Believe me. I know."