Wounded Soldiers
A Buffy One-Shot
By Nichole (Neko) Johnson
Written: January 23, 2003
Summary: continuation of the events from Season Seven's "Showtime": Spike's rescue and recovery. Slight Spuffy-ness (Buffy/Spike)—always Spuffy-ness…
Disclaimers: Buffy's not mine. ::cries uncontrollably:: (Spike's soul is, however—he promised it to me in return for a pack of smokes. ^_^)
Author's Notes: I don't care for this chapter quite as much as the previous ones; if anything, I'd compare it to a "filler episode". Some things happen; small progressions are made in the storyline, but it's mostly just a 'for fun' type chapter. Lot's of SIT gags and banter between Spike and the potentials and so forth. And of course, some 'meaningful glances' between Buffy and Spike, as I've heard some people call them. ^_~
This chapter ends the events happening after "Showtime". The next chapter will pick up after the events of "Potential". (More explanation will be given in that chapter—I just wanted to warn you all, though, so you'd know what to expect.)
Dictionary Notes: For those of you confused by the title of this chapter, "blithe" is a state of being care-free; or to be cheerful. Hence, the "filler" status of this chappie.
* * * * *
~ "Blithe" ~
The worries that followed her to work hung heavy on her heart and mind as she attempted some semblance of normalcy in this, their greatest hour of warlike preparation.
As much as she would've liked to begun the training of the SIT's that morning, she knew that things would be difficult on the war council if she continued to be a no-show at work. It was her decision that she go, no one else's, and yet, she felt as if she had been forced into a sudden tedium she was not quite ready for in her current state of mind. She was so tired, so very tired. The only thoughts she could focus on clearly were that of The First and how to battle it; her worries over the abilities of the potentials; the extent of Spike's abilities at the moment.
The excess workload that had crept up on her at work had not helped matters any, either. Principal Wood hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told her of the huge list of students waiting to see her over her short absence. Buffy couldn't imagine ever having been so overwhelmed by something other than Slayer business. Had she not been so worried about other matters, she might have appreciated the normalcy of her plight, but as it was, she had no time for leisurely meditations. She hadn't even granted herself the time for sleep, and she was greatly regretting it for the remainder of the day.
Four-o'-clock couldn't possibly come soon enough.
When she did get back, however, it was to the sight of bedlam.
"What happened?" she demanded loudly of the guilty trio before her upon entering the kitchen, her tone incredulous. The kitchen was a cooking nightmare, food and cooking utensils strewn everywhere.
"Everyone was getting rather peckish…" muttered Molly sheepishly, wiping a splotch of something unidentifiable from her cheek with the back of her hand.
"So we thought we'd cook something for lunch," finished Vi in a tinny voice, trying to look as small as possible.
Buffy's shocked gaze shot to Andrew, turning accusing.
The sci-fi geek shook his head hastily, attempting innocence. "I-I had nothing to do with it. I swear! I just came in to see where the burning smell was coming from!"
Buffy's accusing glance shot to the two girls, darkening further.
Molly looked further embarrassed, shrinking in on herself somewhat. "That was the oven mitt…"
"Oven mitt?!" exclaimed Buffy, her pitch dangerously high.
A loud clambering from upstairs cut off any further admonishments she had as all four of them turned to see Rona and Kennedy go rushing by, giggling under their breaths in smug amusement at some unknown joke.
Arms crossed like a stern mother, the blonde Slayer turned to the two with an icy glare, freezing them in their tracks. "Alright, you two. What have you been up to?"
She cast a glance around the kitchen, taking in the carnage once more. "I can only guess it was no good…"
"Up to?" queried Rona innocently, licking her lips nervously to try and keep from smiling.
Beside her, Kennedy crossed her arms defiantly, looking utterly innocent. "Nothing," she replied coolly, "We weren't up to anything."
"Girls!!"
Spike's quite obviously infuriated voice echoed quite suddenly down to them all from upstairs, the potentials and Andrew both reacting with most likely well-placed fear at the tone and flinching despite themselves.
Buffy's glare grew sterner, turning back to Rona and Kennedy for an explanation.
She needn't have asked, however, as Spike soon appeared down the stairs himself, storming into the kitchen looking rather hacked off; not to mention rather wet. It looked as though he had thrown his clothes on in quite a hurry, his bleached locks in a wet tussle from doing so.
"I could kill you both, y'know—soul or no soul!" he growled angrily, sounding suspiciously more like a disappointed father, than a blood-sucking demon.
Rona and Kennedy only seemed to find the urge not to laugh harder at the look on his face, threatening to burst into outrageous laughter.
Sighing with waning patience, Buffy turned to the vampire with a harried expression. "Spike, what have they—"
"They were peeking on me in the shower!" he cut her off with a tone of indignation, pointing violently in the direction of the two now giggling perpetrators. He turned to give them both a harsh glare again. "I mean it! Either of you ever seen what a disemboweled corpse looks like?!"
"Spike!" cut in Buffy harshly, before he could elaborate any further on his threat. The blonde vampire turned to her, still looking fiercely angry, but slightly cowed by the tone he'd caught in her voice.
She didn't proceed to berate him however. Instead, she gave him a somewhat confused glance, suddenly tinged with amusement. "Why didn't you lock the door?"
He looked at her, still openmouthed with indignation; his mouth working a bit, but not quite succeeding at formulating an answer to her question.
Then he huffed loudly, dropping his arms to his sides in frustration. "You think I'm used to bathing in a house full of teenaged girlies?! It's like the bloody Brady Bunch around here!"
Andrew raised his hand shyly. "Can I be Greg?" Everyone ignored him.
Rona and Kennedy both turned suddenly to Buffy, forgetting their laughter momentarily and looking apologetic.
"We were just curious…" spoke up Rona, beginning to look rather embarrassed about the whole thing. "We wanted to know what vampires…look like."
Spike turned to her, calmed somewhat, but still incensed to some degree. "Yeah, well, I'm not a bleedin' peep show," he countered angrily. "If you want pictures, find a bloody Watcher's Diary!"
Kennedy tried to cover up another amused chuckle with her hand. "It's not like we saw anything important…"
The two potential Slayers and vampire began to go at it again in a large shouting match, and pretty soon, everyone had begun to shout, arguing loudly.
"Guys!" yelled Buffy loudly over the din, trying to get their attentions. The arguing continued, increasing somewhat in volume and strength.
"EVERYBODY!" she yelled fiercely. "SHUT UP!!"
Everyone was suddenly quiet, all eyes on her. Taking a deep, thankful breath, she looked around at them all, piercing them all with a dark, no-nonsense gaze.
"Finally," she sighed in relief, continuing to look them all over. She suddenly pierced the four Slayers-In-Waiting with a commanding gaze. "Girls—downstairs," she commanded sternly. She turned to Spike. "Spike, come with me."
"What about me?" spoke up Andrew hurriedly, not wishing to be left-out.
Buffy gave him an annoyed glance. "Go to the living room. Or something." She shrugged, annoyed with his constant pestering.
The sci-fi geek obeyed silently, hurrying out of the room like a puppy with it's tail between it's legs; and Buffy led Spike out to the entryway, where she turned to face him grimly in front of the steps.
Spike gazed back at her, his anger having melted away to be replaced by a somewhat shamefaced expression. He avoided her eyes slightly, waiting for the verbal dress-down, which he knew was inevitable.
What he got was a rather silly looking grin.
* * *
Indignation spread in his dark eyes, his jaw tightening in humiliation.
"Slayer, are you laughin' at me?" he murmured, his tone tight with annoyance.
The look on Buffy's face began to grow slightly more tortured with the effort of holding back so much laughter. Silent, muffled chuckles rose slowly into amused giggles, as she stared at the vampire before her in growing amusement.
Spike continued to look indignant with her. "Well if that just—I can't believe you're laughing about this!" he countered in a harsh stage whisper.
Buffy shook her head helplessly, enjoying the look of indignation on his face. She placed a hand over her mouth to try and muffle her laughter.
"I can't believe you didn't think to lock the door!" she gasped through her laughter, tears of mirth beginning to build at the corners of her eyes. "I'm gone for only a few hours, and the big bad vampire is almost defeated by a bunch of untrained, 15-year-old girls!"
Spike rolled his eyes, his embarrassment evident as he avoided her gaze. "Alright, Buffy. That's enough now."
The blonde only laughed harder, still clamping a hand tightly over her mouth to muffle the sound, and suddenly, the bleach-blonde vampire couldn't help but stifle a smile of his own at her amusement.
And it hit him suddenly, that he hadn't seen her this relaxed, this amused for quite sometime now. When was the last time she had laughed quite so hard, he couldn't even recall. His smile softened sadly, turning almost bittersweet.
The petite Slayer's laughter died away slowly at the look in the vampire's eyes. It had been a long time since she'd last laughed quite like that, she realized suddenly. Spike had obviously realized it as well.
Her laughter died, but the sparkle in her eyes because of it was still there; still dancing with an inner fire he had long since forgotten in her these days. The moment stretched on between them, soured by recent events that prevented each from voicing their thoughts.
Spike was the first to look away, sliding his hands into his pockets with pent-up frustration; but his face only spoke of sorrow.
"We should probably get to training those troublesome girls, eh?" he suggested softly, his tone holding no real emotion. "With Giles off to Shanghai to pick up that Chao-Ahn girl or whatever her name is, it'll be only you 'n me to train 'em for awhile. Best we get started."
Buffy's countenance seemed to have gone just as dark, as she lowered her eyes in discomfort. "Yeah, you're right. I should've started them sooner it's just—"
She suddenly broke off in mid-sentence, gasping loudly in realization. "Oh, God! The kitchen!"
The vampire looked momentarily confused, then remembering the state of the kitchen, nodded shortly. "Oh. Right. Yeah, the kitchen." He paused for a moment to ponder this.
"Have Andrew take care of it," he proposed suddenly, his tone serious. Buffy looked at him in surprise, pulling a strange face.
"Andrew?"
The vampire shrugged dismissively. "Well, yeah. 'S got to earn 'is keep somehow, doesn't he?"
There was suddenly a rather darkly mischievous glint in the Slayer's green eyes. "You know, you've got a point there…" she murmured, the corners of her mouth quirking in an impish grin.
Smiling back at her, Spike followed as she turned into the living room, shouting Andrew's name commandingly.
Perhaps tonight's training wouldn't go so bad after all.
* * * *