Spike spent the next two days bundled up in gauze and ace wrap on a cot set up in the Summers' basement. Deemed too injured to care for himself by Joyce, Buffy was ordered to make him comfortable downstairs until he could function on his own. He had only brief, hazy memories of those forty-eight hours, and most of them were of someone shoving blood down his throat.
After two days, vampire healing had mended him enough for him to be able to stand on his own and speak without coughing up blood. He was still weak, though, and his newly closed wounds would re-open and spill blood if he moved the wrong way. As such, he spent most of his time lying down on the couch with the living room curtains drawn securely shut, watching television.
On the fourth day, he fell asleep during General Hospital and was awakened by the thundering horde of estrogen that was the Summers' household arriving home. In the past ninety-six hours he had witnessed first hand what it was like to live with three strong-willed women, one of whom was a full bore adolescent, and all of his fantasies of what life would be like were he to be welcomed into the Summers' inner circle were shattered completely. To be honest he wasn't certain any man could live it and survive.
Between the constant yammering and fighting over the bathroom and the female hormones floating around, he was amazed that he hadn't gone completely insane. Still, he quickly learned the value in making himself as small and quiet as possible so he wouldn't get dragged into another snit between the girls or the girls and their mother. Huddling down in his blankets, he did his best to imitate a pile of discarded laundry tossed on the couch with only the top of his head and his eyes exposed.
'If I just lay low and keep my mouth shut, they might not notice me…'
"Spike! You're upstairs!" Dawn cried happily, rushing over.
'Oh balls…'
The teen immediately began fussing over him. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine, Bit. Just restin' and watchin' telly," he whispered, trying to make himself sound worse than he actually was.
"Well, you look better and your voice is way stronger."
"I'll be ready to go back to my crypt soon," he hedged hopefully.
"Not tonight, you won't be," Joyce said, appraising him with a mother's eye and seeing right through him. He did his best to look innocent.
"Mom has a date," Dawn announced, flopping onto the couch.
Spike looked at Joyce and smiled. "Does she now? Gettin' back into the singles scene, eh, Joyce?"
"More like Single with Children," Joyce replied, concern and uncertainty in her voice.
"Mom got three new dresses today, just for her date! Mom, mom! Go put them on!"
"They're really nothing special or fancy…" Joyce tried, but Dawn was insistent.
"Mom, please? I wanna see them. Besides, we need to make sure they're appropriate attire for a first date."
"Where did you learn to talk like that, young lady?" Joyce asked, incredulous.
Dawn fixed her baby browns on her mother and blinked. "Society and values in History class."
Joyce rolled her eyes and gave in. "Alright, alright."
"Yay! I'll help!" Dawn enthused, hopping off the couch, grabbing the shopping bags and dashing up the stairs.
Shaking her head, Joyce followed, leaving Buffy alone with him. She looked at him and he looked at her, but she did not come close. She'd been quiet and civil during his time there, not snarky or argumentative, and for that he was grateful. She kept her distance, but was there if he needed anything, and she didn't hesitate to help if he required something. She didn't mention his loving her, and neither did he. Buffy was well into denial and he was too damaged to get into an emotional tête-à-tête with her.
Considering how things had happened before, however, this time around was a vast improvement. At least this time, the encounter with Dru hadn't resulted in his chaining Buffy to a wall, offering to kill Dru or threatening to let Dru kill her, and his invite to the Summers' house being revoked. Not that having Dru use him as a butcher's block had been at all pleasant, nor was it something he would ever want to experience again, but those wounds would heal. This time, he was still welcome in the Summers' home, albeit warily, and he had two out of three Summers women doting on him like mother hens.
"You do look better," Buffy said, shaking him out of his thoughts. "I mean, you still look dead, but for a while there you looked deader than dead. I can see a definite improvement."
"Thanks ever so."
She fell silent and looked uncomfortable for a few moments.
"So, anything good on TV?"
Spike shook his head. "Just news and soaps. And you know how soaps are: stop watching for two months and you come back to find the same characters suffering the same torments only now they know that they're all secretly related."
Buffy giggled and her shoulders relaxed. He found that if he could make her laugh, she would let down her guard a bit and stop trying so hard to figure him out.
"And is Timmy a real boy yet?" she teased.
He gave her a grin. "Nope, still a doll, but he's hopin'. Oh! Say, what time is it?"
Buffy looked at her watch. "4:12."
"Oh! BBC America was running a Changing Rooms marathon!" he remembered, grabbing the remote and changing the channel.
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Changing Rooms? Is that anything like Trading Spaces, that TV show where two neighbors destroy rooms in each other's house and get designers to help?"
"No, no, this is the *original* show that had neighbors destroying each others rooms. Soddin' Trading Spaces was just you yanks stealin' our idea coz you couldn't come up with an original idea like that on your own."
"Is it funnier than Trading Spaces? I mean, I saw an episode where the woman designer put moss all over these people's bedroom wall."
She came closer and he made room for her on the other side of the couch.
"It's brilliant. I love it when the people hate it and they cry. Saw that ponce Lawrence get shoved into a pool once. It was great."
She perched on the very edge of the couch as the program returned from commercials to rejoin the 'red team' in the midst of converting someone's attic bachelor pad into a Costa Rican love nest.
"Ewww, that is the brightest shade of orange I have ever seen in my life," Buffy commented.
"They're British, pet. We never get to see the sun so bright colors look wonderful to us."
The camera closed in on a second can of paint, this one deep turquoise. "Ewwwww. Are they color-blind too?"
Spike just chuckled and settled in to watch Buffy react to the show. She was so caught up in being repulsed by British fashion sense that she didn't notice that he was staring at her. She was so expressive and alive that he almost started to cry. He'd missed her vibrant personality so much after Willow had resurrected her. It was a gift to see it now.
A few minutes later, Joyce came down to model her first dress and the television was turned off. Spike made more room on the couch and he, Dawn and Buffy played audience to Joyce's modeling. The first two dresses were very nice, but the third was a knock-out. It was a long black slip dress with calf-length slits up each side and painted lilies on the front.
"What do you think?" Joyce asked, taking a small spin in front of them.
"Mmmm, I might like it more than the others. Could you spin again?" Buffy answered.
Joyce obliged and spun again.
"Ooo, I'm not sure. Once more," Dawn said.
Joyce turned and Spike caught the mischievous glints in the girls' eyes.
"Now could you go the other way?" Buffy requested innocently and Spike had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Joyce started to turn in the opposite direction, but then stopped, wising up to her daughters' antics.
"You're messing with me."
Dawn and Buffy giggled.
"We just wanted to see how many times we could get you to do it," Buffy admitted.
"Was that five or four-and-a-half?" Dawn joked.
"So is anyone going to talk about the dress?" Joyce asked.
"It's very nice, Joyce. Like that one on you," Spike replied.
Joyce put her hands on her hips. "You said that about the other two dresses, Spike."
Spike shrugged. "It's true. Though you do look particularly radiant in that one," he smoothed, turning on the charm. She flushed and looked pleased.
"I like it,' Dawn said definitively.
Joyce suddenly became uncertain. "You're sure? It's not too, you know, mom-ish?"
"Oh. That was why I liked it," Dawn said.
"You're both crazy! It's not mom-ish at all!" Buffy insisted. "It's sexy! It screams randy-sex-kitten-buy-me-one-drink-and-I'll..." She paused and grimaced. "Wait... that's not really good either."
Joyce looked to Spike and he knew he was in trouble. "Spike?"
"Errr… It's definitely a dress a mature attractive woman such as yourself would wear."
Joyce sighed. "Oh, I'm so glad you
agreed to help… Oh God, what time is it?"
"Four-twenty-three," Buffy replied, looking at her watch. "You have lots of time 'til seven. Vast acres of time in which you could plant crops. Now tell me about this Brian and what his intentions are."
"Yeah, Mum, who is this mystery man who wants to sweep you off your feet?" Spike piped up, enjoying Joyce's nervousness.
"Maybe he's a gigolo. Was his shirt all shiny?" Dawn asked, worried.
"Could you see his chest hair? Was he wearing lots of gaudy jewelry? The rings'll give 'em away very time," Spike added seriously, but his eyes were laughing.
"No, he works at a publishing house. A nice, normal guy, okay?" Joyce explained. "I met him my first day back at the gallery when I was still kinda shaky. You know, starting over. He asked a question about these antique cameos and I was so lost 'cause Carol did the ordering while I was sick. But it turned out he didn't know anything about them either, so we had a lot to talk about."
"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dawn questioned.
"Dinner and then a movie. Or maybe it was a movie and then dinner. Which might be better because then we can talk about the movie. Or maybe a movie isn't a good idea at all, because you can't talk during and then what's the point of any of it. Also, what kind of a restaurant? One with candles and romantic music, or is that pushing it?" Joyce answered, unsure.
"I think a date should be in a real fancy restaurant, then champagne at a night club with a floor show, then ballroom dancing," Dawn said.
"Unfortunately, we're not dating in a movie from the thirties. Spike?" Joyce asked, pinning him with a worried, expectant gaze.
Spike squirmed and punted. 'When in doubt, remind 'em you're a vampire…' "Oh, I dunno, Joyce. In my time, a good time for me and Dru was eating the floor show in that night club Bit was talkin' about."
Joyce rolled her eyes and looked to
her eldest. "Buffy? What do you think? Should I try
to make things romantic or sort of let him set the pace?"
"Oh no, Love-Doctor Buffy is not in. I'm not qualified to give dating advice."
"Seriously, Joyce, it's all about chemistry. If this Brian-bloke and you have it, then you'll know what to do," he offered.
Joyce wrung her hands and bit her lip. "Oh God-- Brian. What time is it now?"
"Four twenty-four. One minute after you asked us the last time."
"You're sure this dress is okay?"
"Spin again. Real fast this time," Dawn said, grinning.
Two and a half hours later, two of the walking estrogen bombs were ready to leave. Joyce, radiant in her dress and makeup, was awaiting her date, and Buffy, even more radiant in a gold sweater and tight black pants, was heading out to a Spring Break party at Sunnydale University. Spike had urged her to go for a little fun time; that he and Dawn would be fine on their own. That was when Joyce announced the Giles would be coming over to keep an eye on Dawn and attend to the 'undead English patient.'
"Okay, Mom, Xander's here. Have fun on your date," Buffy announced as she bounded out the door.
Spike followed her bouncing hair enviously, wishing he could go with her. He loved to watch her dance, but it would save him the humiliation of getting thrown through a window by that Warren-geek's sex-bot.
"Goodnight honey! Have a good time!" Joyce called after her.
He heard the sound of a car door closing and then the vehicle drove off. Dawn was upstairs in her room, so he and Joyce were alone. Ignoring the protesting of his wounds, he rose to his feet and approached her.
"You really do look stunning in that dress, Joyce," he said honestly.
Joyce flushed and smiled. "Thank you, Spike."
"How are you feeling?"
The woman's smile widened. "Really, really good. The headaches are gone and I feel wonderful."
"Doc have you on any medication?" he hedged.
Joyce shrugged. "I'm supposed to be taking Coumadin, but it makes my gums bleed something terrible."
He frowned. "Now, now, Joyce, if the doc says you should take it, maybe you need to talk to him about a different drug if that one's not workin' for you."
"It's a blood thinner, Spike. I take aspirin instead."
He gave her an incredulous look and she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Really. And who's the mom here anyway?"
"You are, Joyce," he answered immediately. He might be a vampire, but he was a well trained vampire.
"That's right, and I know what I'm doing so don't worry about me."
His vampire hearing caught the sound of a car pulling in the drive.
"You're date's here, Mum," he told her.
She immediately smoothed her dress and fluffed her hair. "How do I look?"
He gave her a tender smile. "Radiant."
She looked at him gratefully and he added, "And you do know that if this bloke is anything but a perfect gentleman, I'll contract out to have someone eviscerate him and hand him his intestines since I can't do it myself."
Her smile faded, but then she laughed and shook her head, opening the door.
"Goodnight, Spike. Rupert will be here around 8:00. Keep Dawn, and yourself, out of trouble until then."
"Wot? That mean I can't sell all your furniture and dance to rock music in my boxers?"
Joyce gave him a look that turned evil, and he suddenly knew where Buffy got her impish streak. "You don't wear boxers, Spike."
Giving him a final smile, and ignoring his stunned look, she walked out to join her date.