Spike was driving. Had been since the moment that the sun was down far
enough to allow it. They'd agreed to just continue driving from the
moment they crossed the state line that afternoon. No more hotels. No
stopping until they were home. It was after midnight, but they only had
about another thirty miles to go. Freeway driving. Was there anything
more boring? The vampire was beginning to think not.
Buffy jerked from her sleep in the passenger's seat, with a strangled yelp. Her eyes swung back and forth, not registering her where-abouts.
The vampire glanced at her, reaching out one hand and placing it on her shoulder. "Hey, luv. Good news. We'll be back in good old Sunnyhell within the hour."
Shallow breaths caught in her throat and her wild eyes dulled a little bit. "Oh." Swallowed. "Good?"
"Yeah. You'll be back home." He smiled at her, rubbing at her shoulder gently. "Bad dream?"
"I don't know. I haven't been sleeping well... the closer we get." Shrug. "No big."
He glanced over. "Guess you've gotten used to bein' away from the Hellmouth. Bein' close again's prolly affectin' you. I've been having a weird feeling, too. Like... Butterflies in the stomach, ya know?"
Nodded. "Yeah... Good ol' Hellmouth."
He chuckled. "Yeah. Though I doubt that 'good' is an appropriate term."
She gave him a grin.
Three different pitched snores sounded from the cots lined up behind them. Giles, Anya, and Xander.
The sound comforted Buffy. Everyone was safe. Accounted for. And apparently, sleeping easy. Her hand came off the rest to reach over and touch his.
He took her hand in his and held it gently. "You'll see. Come mornin', we'll all be home, safe and sound." He seemed to be trying to reassure himself as much as her.
"We will. Everything will be ok. Her time is past."
He nodded. "Yeah. I know just... My last few memories from bein' in 'good ole' Sunnyhell aren't exactly pleasant, to say the least." Released her hand to rub at his chest absently.
She took his hand back when he dropped it again, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "Mine either. When... when we get home... Things are going to be different, aren't they?"
Glanced at her. "How so?"
She shrugged. "We're going back to real life. Slaying. Not... hotel rooms where we have almost nothing to worry about. Dawn's missed school, bills, everything."
He nodded. "Yeah. It's not all gonna be easy. I won't try to tell you otherwise. But there're a few things that are different. Us, for one thing. And the others. We've all changed. We've all grown in lots of different ways. And personally, I'm looking forward to seeing where we go from here. From this new start. Because that's what it is. A new beginning."
"Yeah." Didn't sound quite as sure as him.
He squeezed her hand gently. "Don't worry, luv. Whatever the Hellmouth throws at us, we'll take it down. Together." Glanced over his shoulder at the slumbering humans, then back to her. "All of us."
Gave a smiling nod. "All right."
Spike grinned at her, then checked an upcoming road sign. "Oh, look. 'Sunnydale, next right'."
"Joy."
Gave her a conspiratorial glance. "Wanna just keep going? We can make the coast by morning."
Laughed. "I think Dawn would kill me."
He chuckled. "Naw. She'd stake me first." Sighed, and turned onto the exit ramp. "Heaven forbid us being in the wrath of Dawn."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Heaven forbid."
========================================================================== ==================
Spike fished around under the bed in the back room. Where was that stupid pen? Ah. There it is. Pulled the pen that Madison had given him out from it's hiding place, and stuck it in his duffel bag. That was it. Time to go. He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved out into the main room, moving around where Xander and Anya remained asleep in their cots, and toward the door at the front of the Ohana, where Buffy and Giles waited.
Buffy smiled. "Sure you don't want help getting all that to the crypt?"
He gave her a grin and hefted his bag. "I'm sure, luv. Thanks for offerin' though. I'll stop by later, see how you all're doin'. Tell Niblet I said 'bye', if she wakes up before I get to your house later."
Buffy nodded, unsure of how to say goodbye with her Watcher, well... watching. "Ok. I will. Bye." She stood on her toes, brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.
He gave a soft purr, and, ignoring Giles, used his free hand to pull her closer and kiss her goodbye properly.
Her eyes went wide, then drifted shut as Spike did what he did so well. She pulled back, finally, her mouth in a soft 'oh', and a blush rising.
He grinned at her, and then offered a hand to her Watcher. "See you 'round, Rupert?"
Giles snapped out of his slight shock, and, to Buffy's surprise, chuckled quietly as he grasped the vampire's hand. "I have no doubt. Good night, Spike."
"Night, Rupe." Smiled at Buffy, letting his hand brush her cheek gently. "Night, luv. See you later."
She nodded. "Night."
Spike shut the door, and hopped over the fence to his cemetery as he heard the Ohana drive off. Funny how it felt wrong for it to leave without him. As if it was a part of him, now. He shrugged of the feeling and walked deeper into the cemetery. Ah. Familiar surroundings. The Johanson's monument. The Bradley family plot. His favorite tree. And... Wait a minute. A hole? That wasn't there before. Froze in his tracks when he realized where he was. That hole, and the pile of rubble near it, was where his crypt should've been. Dropped his duffel bag when he realized that the hole and rubble *was* his crypt. What was left of it. "Well, well, well. Home sweet home." Snorted. "Welcome to the Hellmouth."
========================================================================== ==================
The Ohana made it's second to final stop. Giles had dropped everyone else off first, knowing Dawn's things would take the longest to unload. As the final three pulled into the driveway, they were all silent in shock.
The front porch had been trashed, and their front door hung on only one hinge. Oh God. Before the engine was totally cut, Buffy was running into their home.
Dawn was on her heels, and they both froze as they took in the house. Furniture, torn, over-turned, the glass coffeetable broken. It looked as though it had been ransacked. It had to have been Glory. Who else could have?
Dawn had crept away, and was now wailing in shock, in Joyce's old bedroom. There was nothing of true value, sentimental or monetary, they had moved that long ago, but Dawn was kneeling, crying, sobbing in the middle of the floor. They had tossed the mattresses off the bed, cut one open. As soon as her sister's screams registered, Buffy had shot upstairs.
Buffy took in the room, and it shook her, as had seeing the rest of the house. But she wrapped her arms around Dawn, hushing and soothing until she had become calmer. Dawn's own room, in fact, was for the most part unscathed, as she truly had taken almost everything out of it. Buffy carried her there, rocking back and forth, mumbling things that didn't make sense. Finally, Dawn came back to her.
"There's my girl," Buffy cooed. "Why don't I bring up some of your stuff, and you can set your room up any way you like, then you can get to bed, ok? I'm sure it'll look better in the morning. It's not really this bad. Just the bad light."
Dawn just snuffled and nodded.
Giles, who was just as shocked as the girls, had managed to keep himself composed enough to take a couple of Dawn's bags upstairs, and was now standing in the doorway.
An hour and a half later, Buffy and Giles had finally coaxed a physically and emotionally exhausted Dawn to bed, after watching her, and helping her arrange and rearrange the furniture, the bedding. It was, they all knew, just a way to burn the energy, to tire her out. To relax her mind, just for a while, and let it focus on the mundane things.
Now, the Slayer and Watcher were standing in the living room. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay here tonight, Buffy?", Giles asked, his hand on his Slayer's shoulder.
She nodded. "There's nothing you can do now, Giles. Go to your place. Check on it. I've got everything under control here."
Giles gave a half nod, but quickly pulled her to him in a tight, fatherly hug. "Just like you told Dawn, Buffy. It'll look better in the morning. We'll fix all this."
She squeezed him back, relishing the safe feel. "Of course we will."
He pulled back, holding her shoulders gently. "Alright. I'm going to go. If you need anything, and I mean *anything*, call me. I don't care if it's five o'clock in the morning." Glanced at his watch. "Which is in three hours. Good lord." Shook his head. "This has been a long night. And I am not looking forward to checking on the Magic Box tomorrow."
She winced. "I'll be there to help."
Sighed, and moved toward the door. "Good night, then, Buffy. I think Spike said he'd stop by before morning, right?"
Buffy nodded. "He said he'd try."
Giles nodded. "Alright then." Went out onto the porch. Regarded the door, which was still hanging from one hinge. "This is the first priority tomorrow. New door."
"Oh yeah. Goodnight, Giles."
"Goodnight." Left the door hanging, because... Well, there was no way to close it.
She walked back in, taking it all in again. She was shaky, shaking, but she could do it. She was ok- something crunched under her foot. She stepped back, knelt to pick it up. Mom. Joyce. Her picture was held by a delicate silver frame, decorated in blue glass. The face glass was broken, and so were the pieces at the side. It was too much. The final push. Buffy held the frame tight in her hands, in front of the couch she and Giles had turned back up. One tear fell, leading the way for the others, and before long, she was sobbing, clutching the frame in her hands unmindful of the jagged edges of cobalt cutting into her hands, leaving delicate rivers of blood to flow off her hands to the floor. Couldn't stem the tears. Didn't even try.
Spike had stashed his duffel at Clem's place, and was now almost to the Summers residence. Sighed. Hoped that the Slayer's house was still *there*. Unlike his crypt. Which was now a crater. Ah. House still there. That's good. That's- Front door off the hinges. That's bad. And.. what's that smell? Blood. SLAYER BLOOD! Spike panicked. Oh god, they'd miscalculated, and Glory had come back and gotten Dawn and killed Buffy. On the off chance that he could even help, he shot up the front walk, not even aware when he vamped, and flew through the front door, snarling. Froze, when he saw the crying Slayer on the couch. A quick sniff assured him that Dawn was safe and in the house. He shook off the vampire visage, and slowly moved toward Buffy. Her hands were bleeding. She was holding something, and her hands were bleeding. "Buffy?"
Just another coughing sob, her eyes closed, body shuddering with the force of her cries.
He moved toward her slowly, settling on the couch next to her. Only then noticing the broken coffee table and just generally trashed living room. God. And he couldn't even see into the other rooms. Rubbed her back with comforting circles. "Shhh. It's okay, luv. It'll be okay."
Her reddened eyes opened to look tearfully, bleakly at him. Tilted the picture so he could see, the glass grinding in her hands not even registering.
He saw what she held. The treasured photo of Joyce. And a wave of sadness and rage washed over him. He growled softly, and gently extracted the glass from her hands, letting her keep the picture. He rested one finger on it for a moment, and the growl shuddered a little. This was too much for one night. He put an arm around her back, pulling her to him and resting his head atop hers. Purred softly, comfortingly.
Her injured hands pulled at the lapels of his duster, and she cried into him.
He held her close, rocking back and forth, murmuring comforting nonsense and purring softly.
She let him hold her, soothe her like she desperately needed, then quieted herself, resting her head on his shoulder.
He kept rocking a little, even after her crying had stopped, calming both of them with the motion. Decided that now was not the time to tell her about his crypt. Later. When- If it came up. He just held her, nuzzling her gently and stroking her back softly.
She shuddered, every now and again., but held him close, then finally looked up at him.
He offered a small smile. "Hey."
"Hi."
He looked around a little. Said the only thing he could think of. "I'm sorry, 'bout the house. I know I didn't have anything to do with it, but I'm sorry."
She licked her lips and nodded. "Yeah. Me, too." Looked down at her hands, noticing them for the first time. "Ouch."
He made a sympathetic face. "I'll get the first aid kit." Got up and went into the kitchen. Ooh. Fridge overturned. Good thing they hadn't left any food in there. Stove opened. A couple of cabinets missing doo- Oh. There were the doors. In the sink. How the hell...? Never mind. First aid kit. Ah. There it was. Untouched, thankfully. Brought it into the living room, settled back on the couch. "Gimme a hand, luv."
She held one out, staring blankly into space. It was better than focusing on the mess.
He took her hand gingerly, careful not to touch the cuts if he didn't have to. Began cleaning them with the antiseptic carefully.
A flinch broke into her trance-like stare now and again.
He winced every time she flinched, muttering apologies as he did. Finished bandaging one hand and moved onto the other one.
When he was finished, she thanked him, and stood, to walk through the room, righting all the furniture. After that, she was going to sweep. And when she was done, she'd move to the next room.
Wanting to help, Spike went into the kitchen, began fixing the cabinet doors, and standing the fridge back up.
She came in an hour later, finally making the living room as decent as possible, looking to help him. She had no color, looked pale and robotic and gray.
The kitchen almost looked normal. He'd cut his hands and arms a couple of times on the broken wood of the cabinets, but had managed to get all of the doors to go back on their hinges. Was limping from when the fridge had wound up on his foot for a moment, and had a roll of paper towels in his mouth as he cleaned the counter with a scrub brush.
She walked up to him, took the papertowels from his lips, and moved him away from the counter gently. "Enough."
He took a couple of steps back. "I'm not done yet, luv." He was breathing hard, and a couple of the cuts on his arms obviously had splinters in them and were still bleeding a little.
Her fingers trailed down his arms to soothe the skin around the cuts. "Yes, you are."
Sighed, his head drooping a little. "I want it to be alright. Be.. normal, again."
Buffy nodded. "I know... We can finish tomorrow... I just... I wanted it to be easier for Dawn in the morning. I mean, she's going to sleep forever, but we need to be half-lucid when she wakes up. And I need you to sleep."
Ugh. Sleep meant having a place to sleep. Which he didn't at the moment. Oh well. He could find a hotel for one day. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'll go."
Her fingers twisted around his as he went past her. "No... I- I meant... I need you to help me sleep. Here."
He paused, and turned. Well, this would fix his problem for a time. "Alright. Do you need help with your room? Or is the upstairs okay?" Reached up to dig at one of the splinters in his arm. The skin around them was starting to swell a little, from a vampire's inherent 'allergy' to wood.
She shoved his hand away. "God, Spike." She looked at the cut carefully, then pulled the splinter out gently. Repeated the process to the other cuts.
He barely winced, but had to blink quite hard a couple of times. Add splinters to the list of things he never wanted to have in his skin again. Right up there with a Hell God's finger.
Buffy's fingers feathered softly over them, reassuring herself they were all out. Brushed a kiss over one cut.
That kind of surprised him. Pleasantly so, however. Smiled at her. "Thanks, luv."
Gave him a half smile. She felt like the walking dead.
As did Spike, which was normal, for him. Yawned a little. "Oh. Sorry."
She shrugged. Took his hand. "They trashed my room, threw my clothes everywhere, but I made my bed up again. We can throw extra blankets over the windows."
He nodded and let her lead him up the stairs, eyelids at half mast. Shook his head a little as the reached the top of the stairs. "How about we take turns with the shower, luv? I don't want to get your bed all messy, and I've got cabinet dust and blood on me."
She blinked. Hadn't even thought about showering. "Oh. Ok."
Leaned against the hall wall. "You go first. It's your house." Smiled. "Besides. It'll make us both feel better. And the bathroom looks okay."
She bit her lip and nodded, rooted through her room a minute, trying to find clothes. She handed him a pair of black sweat pants. "Xander's." Closed the door to the bathroom, and began to run the shower.
He held the pants loosely, and sagged against the wall. This was officially the longest night of his entire life and unlife combined.
A scant fifteen minutes later, Buffy stepped out of the bathroom again, in a pair of old cotton pajamas and wet hair. "All yours."
He'd straightened up the moment he heard the water shut off, and moved to go into the bathroom, nodding to her.
She was curled under the blankets when he came in, eyes open and vacant. The windows had been covered with heavy wool blankets, shutting out any light that would seek entrance.
He came in to her room slowly, picking up a few things off the floor and righting a chair. Almost stepped on something. Her suitcase. Open. He reached in and retrieved something that seemed important. Approached the bed slowly, and held it out to her. Mr. Gordo.
A soft smile curved her lips as she took her pig, cuddling it to her chest with one hand, extending the other to him.
He took her hand gently and let her guide him onto the bed, stretching out next to her and against her back. Yawned again. Suddenly kind of glad that the crypt was gone. After months of soft hotel beds and cots, it would've been hard to sleep on that stupid sarcophagus. Especially with his back aching the way it was now. But still, he was warm from the shower, and feeling pretty good, too, considering everything that had happened that night. Outside, he could hear an early bird singing softly. The first part of the dawn chorus. Five am already.
Buffy turned to face him, her arms wrapping around his middle to keep him closer. "I needed you tonight."
He sighed, and nuzzled her gently. "Glad I could help, luv."
"So am I."
Spike purred softly, not quite wanting to go to sleep, yet. "I want you to know that I'm going to do anything I can to help you, Buffy. To make things right again."
But she didn't hear him. Or, at least, didn't register. For Buffy had fallen asleep where she was most comfortable: in his arms.
Spike gave a soft chuckle and snuggled closer to the Slayer, sighing happily. Things would work. They were together. And together, they could get through anything.
Buffy jerked from her sleep in the passenger's seat, with a strangled yelp. Her eyes swung back and forth, not registering her where-abouts.
The vampire glanced at her, reaching out one hand and placing it on her shoulder. "Hey, luv. Good news. We'll be back in good old Sunnyhell within the hour."
Shallow breaths caught in her throat and her wild eyes dulled a little bit. "Oh." Swallowed. "Good?"
"Yeah. You'll be back home." He smiled at her, rubbing at her shoulder gently. "Bad dream?"
"I don't know. I haven't been sleeping well... the closer we get." Shrug. "No big."
He glanced over. "Guess you've gotten used to bein' away from the Hellmouth. Bein' close again's prolly affectin' you. I've been having a weird feeling, too. Like... Butterflies in the stomach, ya know?"
Nodded. "Yeah... Good ol' Hellmouth."
He chuckled. "Yeah. Though I doubt that 'good' is an appropriate term."
She gave him a grin.
Three different pitched snores sounded from the cots lined up behind them. Giles, Anya, and Xander.
The sound comforted Buffy. Everyone was safe. Accounted for. And apparently, sleeping easy. Her hand came off the rest to reach over and touch his.
He took her hand in his and held it gently. "You'll see. Come mornin', we'll all be home, safe and sound." He seemed to be trying to reassure himself as much as her.
"We will. Everything will be ok. Her time is past."
He nodded. "Yeah. I know just... My last few memories from bein' in 'good ole' Sunnyhell aren't exactly pleasant, to say the least." Released her hand to rub at his chest absently.
She took his hand back when he dropped it again, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "Mine either. When... when we get home... Things are going to be different, aren't they?"
Glanced at her. "How so?"
She shrugged. "We're going back to real life. Slaying. Not... hotel rooms where we have almost nothing to worry about. Dawn's missed school, bills, everything."
He nodded. "Yeah. It's not all gonna be easy. I won't try to tell you otherwise. But there're a few things that are different. Us, for one thing. And the others. We've all changed. We've all grown in lots of different ways. And personally, I'm looking forward to seeing where we go from here. From this new start. Because that's what it is. A new beginning."
"Yeah." Didn't sound quite as sure as him.
He squeezed her hand gently. "Don't worry, luv. Whatever the Hellmouth throws at us, we'll take it down. Together." Glanced over his shoulder at the slumbering humans, then back to her. "All of us."
Gave a smiling nod. "All right."
Spike grinned at her, then checked an upcoming road sign. "Oh, look. 'Sunnydale, next right'."
"Joy."
Gave her a conspiratorial glance. "Wanna just keep going? We can make the coast by morning."
Laughed. "I think Dawn would kill me."
He chuckled. "Naw. She'd stake me first." Sighed, and turned onto the exit ramp. "Heaven forbid us being in the wrath of Dawn."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Heaven forbid."
========================================================================== ==================
Spike fished around under the bed in the back room. Where was that stupid pen? Ah. There it is. Pulled the pen that Madison had given him out from it's hiding place, and stuck it in his duffel bag. That was it. Time to go. He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved out into the main room, moving around where Xander and Anya remained asleep in their cots, and toward the door at the front of the Ohana, where Buffy and Giles waited.
Buffy smiled. "Sure you don't want help getting all that to the crypt?"
He gave her a grin and hefted his bag. "I'm sure, luv. Thanks for offerin' though. I'll stop by later, see how you all're doin'. Tell Niblet I said 'bye', if she wakes up before I get to your house later."
Buffy nodded, unsure of how to say goodbye with her Watcher, well... watching. "Ok. I will. Bye." She stood on her toes, brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.
He gave a soft purr, and, ignoring Giles, used his free hand to pull her closer and kiss her goodbye properly.
Her eyes went wide, then drifted shut as Spike did what he did so well. She pulled back, finally, her mouth in a soft 'oh', and a blush rising.
He grinned at her, and then offered a hand to her Watcher. "See you 'round, Rupert?"
Giles snapped out of his slight shock, and, to Buffy's surprise, chuckled quietly as he grasped the vampire's hand. "I have no doubt. Good night, Spike."
"Night, Rupe." Smiled at Buffy, letting his hand brush her cheek gently. "Night, luv. See you later."
She nodded. "Night."
Spike shut the door, and hopped over the fence to his cemetery as he heard the Ohana drive off. Funny how it felt wrong for it to leave without him. As if it was a part of him, now. He shrugged of the feeling and walked deeper into the cemetery. Ah. Familiar surroundings. The Johanson's monument. The Bradley family plot. His favorite tree. And... Wait a minute. A hole? That wasn't there before. Froze in his tracks when he realized where he was. That hole, and the pile of rubble near it, was where his crypt should've been. Dropped his duffel bag when he realized that the hole and rubble *was* his crypt. What was left of it. "Well, well, well. Home sweet home." Snorted. "Welcome to the Hellmouth."
========================================================================== ==================
The Ohana made it's second to final stop. Giles had dropped everyone else off first, knowing Dawn's things would take the longest to unload. As the final three pulled into the driveway, they were all silent in shock.
The front porch had been trashed, and their front door hung on only one hinge. Oh God. Before the engine was totally cut, Buffy was running into their home.
Dawn was on her heels, and they both froze as they took in the house. Furniture, torn, over-turned, the glass coffeetable broken. It looked as though it had been ransacked. It had to have been Glory. Who else could have?
Dawn had crept away, and was now wailing in shock, in Joyce's old bedroom. There was nothing of true value, sentimental or monetary, they had moved that long ago, but Dawn was kneeling, crying, sobbing in the middle of the floor. They had tossed the mattresses off the bed, cut one open. As soon as her sister's screams registered, Buffy had shot upstairs.
Buffy took in the room, and it shook her, as had seeing the rest of the house. But she wrapped her arms around Dawn, hushing and soothing until she had become calmer. Dawn's own room, in fact, was for the most part unscathed, as she truly had taken almost everything out of it. Buffy carried her there, rocking back and forth, mumbling things that didn't make sense. Finally, Dawn came back to her.
"There's my girl," Buffy cooed. "Why don't I bring up some of your stuff, and you can set your room up any way you like, then you can get to bed, ok? I'm sure it'll look better in the morning. It's not really this bad. Just the bad light."
Dawn just snuffled and nodded.
Giles, who was just as shocked as the girls, had managed to keep himself composed enough to take a couple of Dawn's bags upstairs, and was now standing in the doorway.
An hour and a half later, Buffy and Giles had finally coaxed a physically and emotionally exhausted Dawn to bed, after watching her, and helping her arrange and rearrange the furniture, the bedding. It was, they all knew, just a way to burn the energy, to tire her out. To relax her mind, just for a while, and let it focus on the mundane things.
Now, the Slayer and Watcher were standing in the living room. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay here tonight, Buffy?", Giles asked, his hand on his Slayer's shoulder.
She nodded. "There's nothing you can do now, Giles. Go to your place. Check on it. I've got everything under control here."
Giles gave a half nod, but quickly pulled her to him in a tight, fatherly hug. "Just like you told Dawn, Buffy. It'll look better in the morning. We'll fix all this."
She squeezed him back, relishing the safe feel. "Of course we will."
He pulled back, holding her shoulders gently. "Alright. I'm going to go. If you need anything, and I mean *anything*, call me. I don't care if it's five o'clock in the morning." Glanced at his watch. "Which is in three hours. Good lord." Shook his head. "This has been a long night. And I am not looking forward to checking on the Magic Box tomorrow."
She winced. "I'll be there to help."
Sighed, and moved toward the door. "Good night, then, Buffy. I think Spike said he'd stop by before morning, right?"
Buffy nodded. "He said he'd try."
Giles nodded. "Alright then." Went out onto the porch. Regarded the door, which was still hanging from one hinge. "This is the first priority tomorrow. New door."
"Oh yeah. Goodnight, Giles."
"Goodnight." Left the door hanging, because... Well, there was no way to close it.
She walked back in, taking it all in again. She was shaky, shaking, but she could do it. She was ok- something crunched under her foot. She stepped back, knelt to pick it up. Mom. Joyce. Her picture was held by a delicate silver frame, decorated in blue glass. The face glass was broken, and so were the pieces at the side. It was too much. The final push. Buffy held the frame tight in her hands, in front of the couch she and Giles had turned back up. One tear fell, leading the way for the others, and before long, she was sobbing, clutching the frame in her hands unmindful of the jagged edges of cobalt cutting into her hands, leaving delicate rivers of blood to flow off her hands to the floor. Couldn't stem the tears. Didn't even try.
Spike had stashed his duffel at Clem's place, and was now almost to the Summers residence. Sighed. Hoped that the Slayer's house was still *there*. Unlike his crypt. Which was now a crater. Ah. House still there. That's good. That's- Front door off the hinges. That's bad. And.. what's that smell? Blood. SLAYER BLOOD! Spike panicked. Oh god, they'd miscalculated, and Glory had come back and gotten Dawn and killed Buffy. On the off chance that he could even help, he shot up the front walk, not even aware when he vamped, and flew through the front door, snarling. Froze, when he saw the crying Slayer on the couch. A quick sniff assured him that Dawn was safe and in the house. He shook off the vampire visage, and slowly moved toward Buffy. Her hands were bleeding. She was holding something, and her hands were bleeding. "Buffy?"
Just another coughing sob, her eyes closed, body shuddering with the force of her cries.
He moved toward her slowly, settling on the couch next to her. Only then noticing the broken coffee table and just generally trashed living room. God. And he couldn't even see into the other rooms. Rubbed her back with comforting circles. "Shhh. It's okay, luv. It'll be okay."
Her reddened eyes opened to look tearfully, bleakly at him. Tilted the picture so he could see, the glass grinding in her hands not even registering.
He saw what she held. The treasured photo of Joyce. And a wave of sadness and rage washed over him. He growled softly, and gently extracted the glass from her hands, letting her keep the picture. He rested one finger on it for a moment, and the growl shuddered a little. This was too much for one night. He put an arm around her back, pulling her to him and resting his head atop hers. Purred softly, comfortingly.
Her injured hands pulled at the lapels of his duster, and she cried into him.
He held her close, rocking back and forth, murmuring comforting nonsense and purring softly.
She let him hold her, soothe her like she desperately needed, then quieted herself, resting her head on his shoulder.
He kept rocking a little, even after her crying had stopped, calming both of them with the motion. Decided that now was not the time to tell her about his crypt. Later. When- If it came up. He just held her, nuzzling her gently and stroking her back softly.
She shuddered, every now and again., but held him close, then finally looked up at him.
He offered a small smile. "Hey."
"Hi."
He looked around a little. Said the only thing he could think of. "I'm sorry, 'bout the house. I know I didn't have anything to do with it, but I'm sorry."
She licked her lips and nodded. "Yeah. Me, too." Looked down at her hands, noticing them for the first time. "Ouch."
He made a sympathetic face. "I'll get the first aid kit." Got up and went into the kitchen. Ooh. Fridge overturned. Good thing they hadn't left any food in there. Stove opened. A couple of cabinets missing doo- Oh. There were the doors. In the sink. How the hell...? Never mind. First aid kit. Ah. There it was. Untouched, thankfully. Brought it into the living room, settled back on the couch. "Gimme a hand, luv."
She held one out, staring blankly into space. It was better than focusing on the mess.
He took her hand gingerly, careful not to touch the cuts if he didn't have to. Began cleaning them with the antiseptic carefully.
A flinch broke into her trance-like stare now and again.
He winced every time she flinched, muttering apologies as he did. Finished bandaging one hand and moved onto the other one.
When he was finished, she thanked him, and stood, to walk through the room, righting all the furniture. After that, she was going to sweep. And when she was done, she'd move to the next room.
Wanting to help, Spike went into the kitchen, began fixing the cabinet doors, and standing the fridge back up.
She came in an hour later, finally making the living room as decent as possible, looking to help him. She had no color, looked pale and robotic and gray.
The kitchen almost looked normal. He'd cut his hands and arms a couple of times on the broken wood of the cabinets, but had managed to get all of the doors to go back on their hinges. Was limping from when the fridge had wound up on his foot for a moment, and had a roll of paper towels in his mouth as he cleaned the counter with a scrub brush.
She walked up to him, took the papertowels from his lips, and moved him away from the counter gently. "Enough."
He took a couple of steps back. "I'm not done yet, luv." He was breathing hard, and a couple of the cuts on his arms obviously had splinters in them and were still bleeding a little.
Her fingers trailed down his arms to soothe the skin around the cuts. "Yes, you are."
Sighed, his head drooping a little. "I want it to be alright. Be.. normal, again."
Buffy nodded. "I know... We can finish tomorrow... I just... I wanted it to be easier for Dawn in the morning. I mean, she's going to sleep forever, but we need to be half-lucid when she wakes up. And I need you to sleep."
Ugh. Sleep meant having a place to sleep. Which he didn't at the moment. Oh well. He could find a hotel for one day. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'll go."
Her fingers twisted around his as he went past her. "No... I- I meant... I need you to help me sleep. Here."
He paused, and turned. Well, this would fix his problem for a time. "Alright. Do you need help with your room? Or is the upstairs okay?" Reached up to dig at one of the splinters in his arm. The skin around them was starting to swell a little, from a vampire's inherent 'allergy' to wood.
She shoved his hand away. "God, Spike." She looked at the cut carefully, then pulled the splinter out gently. Repeated the process to the other cuts.
He barely winced, but had to blink quite hard a couple of times. Add splinters to the list of things he never wanted to have in his skin again. Right up there with a Hell God's finger.
Buffy's fingers feathered softly over them, reassuring herself they were all out. Brushed a kiss over one cut.
That kind of surprised him. Pleasantly so, however. Smiled at her. "Thanks, luv."
Gave him a half smile. She felt like the walking dead.
As did Spike, which was normal, for him. Yawned a little. "Oh. Sorry."
She shrugged. Took his hand. "They trashed my room, threw my clothes everywhere, but I made my bed up again. We can throw extra blankets over the windows."
He nodded and let her lead him up the stairs, eyelids at half mast. Shook his head a little as the reached the top of the stairs. "How about we take turns with the shower, luv? I don't want to get your bed all messy, and I've got cabinet dust and blood on me."
She blinked. Hadn't even thought about showering. "Oh. Ok."
Leaned against the hall wall. "You go first. It's your house." Smiled. "Besides. It'll make us both feel better. And the bathroom looks okay."
She bit her lip and nodded, rooted through her room a minute, trying to find clothes. She handed him a pair of black sweat pants. "Xander's." Closed the door to the bathroom, and began to run the shower.
He held the pants loosely, and sagged against the wall. This was officially the longest night of his entire life and unlife combined.
A scant fifteen minutes later, Buffy stepped out of the bathroom again, in a pair of old cotton pajamas and wet hair. "All yours."
He'd straightened up the moment he heard the water shut off, and moved to go into the bathroom, nodding to her.
She was curled under the blankets when he came in, eyes open and vacant. The windows had been covered with heavy wool blankets, shutting out any light that would seek entrance.
He came in to her room slowly, picking up a few things off the floor and righting a chair. Almost stepped on something. Her suitcase. Open. He reached in and retrieved something that seemed important. Approached the bed slowly, and held it out to her. Mr. Gordo.
A soft smile curved her lips as she took her pig, cuddling it to her chest with one hand, extending the other to him.
He took her hand gently and let her guide him onto the bed, stretching out next to her and against her back. Yawned again. Suddenly kind of glad that the crypt was gone. After months of soft hotel beds and cots, it would've been hard to sleep on that stupid sarcophagus. Especially with his back aching the way it was now. But still, he was warm from the shower, and feeling pretty good, too, considering everything that had happened that night. Outside, he could hear an early bird singing softly. The first part of the dawn chorus. Five am already.
Buffy turned to face him, her arms wrapping around his middle to keep him closer. "I needed you tonight."
He sighed, and nuzzled her gently. "Glad I could help, luv."
"So am I."
Spike purred softly, not quite wanting to go to sleep, yet. "I want you to know that I'm going to do anything I can to help you, Buffy. To make things right again."
But she didn't hear him. Or, at least, didn't register. For Buffy had fallen asleep where she was most comfortable: in his arms.
Spike gave a soft chuckle and snuggled closer to the Slayer, sighing happily. Things would work. They were together. And together, they could get through anything.