TITLE: "Stone by Stone" Chapter
Two - Given Half The Chance
AUTHOR: Elise D.
FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.
SUMMARY: Season Seven, Buffy and Spike exploration. Building up stone by stone.
SPOILERS: Spoiler free, do I get a cookie?
RATING: PG-13.
DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples.
"Well, how was I to know that it would all come back to the great poof?" asked Spike, as he poured himself another drink. Giles simply gave him a look. The look, actually; the one that says, "For God's sake, think." He'd been getting that look a lot.
"It's not a matter of things being about Angel, Spike. You're not seeing the big picture, here. This is about Buffy, and her failed relationships. You should have realized that you gaining your soul would make Buffy connect the dots. Of course she's going to compare it, and as much as I'm loathed me to admit it, this puts you in a much better light than your mentor."
Spike nodded in understanding. It's not like he was planning on crawling back in the slayers bed, but should it ever be a consideration, then he had something working for him. Well sorted.
"You touch her, you're dust," said Giles noticing the wheels in Spike's head start to turn. There was no malice in his voice, it was just a factual statement, and Spike had to admire it.
"Got no intention of it, Rupie. Her virtue is as strong as ever. No worries there, mate. But I'm not going to stop being with her. She needs her friends, and that's what I want to be." At the skeptical look from Giles, he added "and there will be no hanky panky in any way, shape or form. No worries. I'm not going to screw her up again. Or screw her. I just want to watch her back."
Giles nodded, and rubbed at his eyes. It was 2 o'clock in the morning, and he was drinking bourbon with a vampire who had a soul. Talking about the well being of his former charge, and the vampire's former lover. No wonder he was bloody fired from the council. He must have played havoc on Traver's blood pressure. 2 o'clock?
"Bloody hell, I've got to be at the airport in four hours!" he exclaimed. Well, this was going to be another stressful trip.
"Where to this time then, Giles? Darkest Africa, the cold Alaskan expanse?" asked Spike, earning an exhausted glare from the Watcher.
"Maryland, you prat. The coven located a young girl there, so I head out tomorrow. Well, today I suppose. Christ, I better try and catch a few before the wake-up call."
"I think the word is "stampede" actually. I swear, we couldn't get a house of ballerinas? Girls light on their feet?"
Giles continued muttering and shaking his head, as he gathered his things and headed for the dining room/boy's dorm, leaving Spike to his solace.
Oh, buggar it, he'd go have a smoke instead. The last thing he needed was to be all thought having with no form of relaxant.
He headed outside, pulling the half-crushed pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and was tapping one out when he heard it. The voice from the other end of the porch, almost made him snap his smoke in two. He really was losing his touch.
"So, smoking isn't bad for the soul, or anything? I did notice that you'd quit for the longest while, so I had to wonder," said Buffy, as she approached the vampire and sat on the steps beside him.
Spike simply shrugged, too scared to say a word in case he set her off again. Instead he simply settled for lighting his cigarette, the flame of the lighter piercing the darkness. She looked remarkably calm, but he knew better than to make assumptions like that. She could go off on one, at any moment. So he'd sit tight and let her make the first move. Oh yes, because he was so well-known for his patience.
"Look Buffy…I'm…"
"Don't," said Buffy, flinching. "Don't you dare say you're sorry. You've got nothing to be sorry for. Me? I was a psycho back there, and I had no right to wig on you like that. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. It's understandable. I know me gettin' a soul was a shock in the first place, and I doubt you were best pleased with me telling all and sundry about my exploits."
Buffy gave a tired sigh that came out as a laugh.
"Actually, story time was nice. Kind of like a camp fire tale, only with less beans and smores."
"But the boy made popcorn. I've never known anyone to be so infatuated with a microwave before. He's an odd duck, that one. And he tastes like Cheetos." Spike grimaced at the memory of biting Andrew, as did Buffy. Although, he doubted they were reacting to the same thing. The boy really did taste like a cheesy snack; it was flipping strange.
"What you did? It does mean a lot to me, Spike. Don't doubt that, K? I just…I have to process it all, and I've been having a hard time."
"No worries, Slayer. I get it. Nothing like a pesky looming apocalypse to take away from some quiet reflection," said Spike with a smile. "I didn't just do it for you though, if that takes some of the pressure off. I did it for Dawn, for me, for a lot of reasons."
The quiet revelation caused Buffy to look at him in confusion.
"Yeah, it's tragic I tell ya. Bein' a good guy is a truly contagious disease. Of course, yes. The main reason I got it was for you. So you wouldn't have to worry…So I wouldn't do…" he trailed off with a shake of his head. "I did it for all the right reasons, that's all I'm saying."
Buffy smiled, and put her small hand over his.
"I understand, I do. And if it's any consolation, I think it was a very brave thing to do."
"Yeah?"
"Totally cool," confirmed Buffy with a smile, that a relieved Spike returned.
"What do you think they're talking about?" asked Xander, as
he craned his neck to get a better look at the two figures sitting on the porch.
"Wild guess, Harris, I'd say his soul," said Anya with a roll of her eyes. They stayed quiet for a few minutes, and she continued to dry the large mass of dishes, and Xander patiently waited for the subtitles to begin on the porch light conversation.
"I still can't believe what he went through, for her," said Xander with a sigh.
"He loves her. It's pretty straightforward. He wanted to be a better man, so he went out and changed. Literally."
"But after what he tried to do…"
"Xander Harris!" Anya exclaimed, throwing her dishtowel down in exasperation. "You just don't get it, do you? He loves her more than anything, and he knew the demon inside him was a problem. So he fixed it. He's suppressed the thing so that nothing like that would ever happen again. Do you realize how lucky Buffy is? To have someone who'd make that effort?"
"Some demons can't be suppressed Ahn, that's the problem," he replied absently, causing a look of pain to cross the former demons face. Of course, he couldn't see it, being too busy watching on of his best friends hold hands with a vampire.
"They're touching!" he exclaimed, as his brain finally caught up to the sight before him. It caused Anya to run over and peek herself, but she quickly turned away with a disappointed sigh.
"Oh. I thought there was naughty touching. That's nothing. That's just a supporting gesture. Actually, that's a good sign for Spike, if I ever saw one," she noted with a cluck of her tongue.
Xander wrinkled his nose at her observation.
"You don't think that she…that they?"
"Will get back together? I don't know, there's way too much history there. Fix some of their problems from last year? I'd say yes. They're both making an effort. They've both admitted their faults and are trying to work through it. It's important to do that," she said, her eyes imploring him to understand what she was saying.
He got it. He wasn't stupid. Just because women were a mystery to him, and he was a bit of a geek didn't mean he was completely blind. He could see just fine.
"Ahn. Sometimes it's not that simple. Some things just can't be explained."
"Oh, that's crap Harris, and you know it," said Anya with a shake of her head. "You're too scared to tell me what went wrong, and you're trying to gloss over it. I won't have it, I won't. I deserve better." And with that final thought, she stormed off, leaving Xander alone in the darkened kitchen.
"Well, you really are a bloody stupid sod, aren't you?" asked Spike, who had silently entered the kitchen.
Xander whirled around to face him, his hand clutched at his chest.
"Sweet crap, Spike! You almost gave me a heart attack. Don't sneak up on people. In fact, you should hum when you enter rooms. I say this for as much your sake as mine. You might be saved a stake through the chest, if all the potentials know you're coming up behind them.
Spike chuckled and gave a curt nod.
"Message received, Xander. Nice to know you care," he said, as he pushed into the room and made a beeline for the fridge.
"I don't care, I just…hurry up and leave, would you? I have to think…thoughts, and I can't do that while you're sitting around and smirking at me. It's unsettling."
Spike turned to Xander, and just studied his face for a moment, before shaking his head and looking into the fridge.
"You know what else is unsettling?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the fridge shelves. "Prats who can't see what's right in front of them. Women in pain, who are desperately trying to get something across to a bloke denser than a concrete block. You're an idiot, Harris. A bloody idiot."
Xander was confused. Had he been insulted? He was never sure at the moment. Spike was up and down like a yo-yo and he was having a hard time keeping track of which incarnation was present.
"Anya? She's fine. She's just a little sore, yanno? Seeing the budding romance between Wills and Kennedy. Seeing you and Buffy mend your fences, or whatever the hell it is that you're doing. She's just a little down."
"Yeah, and madly in love with you, desperately trying to find out if you give a fig about her. End of the world doom and gloom, always brings out the romantic in people."
"Oh yeah, whatever you say, Romeo," snorted Xander, earning a glare from the vampire.
"Yes, I do say so. If memory serves, I do remember hearing about some dense idiot who actually decided to propose during an apocalypse. Of course, it didn't end well, but the tosser wasn't really known for thinking things through."
Xander glared at Spike for what seemed like an eternity.
"No, I don't get it," he said with a slump of his shoulder.
"She loves you, for some reason that it totally beyond my comprehension. She loves you, and you have yet to really explain why you thought dumping her at the alter, and then dating her would be such a damn good idea. You getting it yet?"
"Oh," said Xander, before the penny dropped. "OH! But I did! I told her I couldn't commit, I told her…oh, crap."
"Yes, oh crap. Talk to the girl, for God's sake. Do something right by the lady, she deserves it."
Xander turned to find his ex-fiancé, but stopped short when a thought occurred to him.
"Why do you care?"
"Don't worry, I don't care about you. I'm only saying it for Anya's sake. She's a decent bird, and she's been through enough recently."
Xander shot Spike a quick look of distain.
"I'm leaving now. And even though I am following your advice, I want you to know I still hate you." After getting a nod from Spike, he continued. "And I find your concern for my girl…ex-girlfriend to be pretty unsettling, considering your past history. You so much as touch her and I'll..."
"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Spike with a wave of dismissal. "Whatever you say. You know damn well I don't want her like that. Stop trying to change the subject. Get to it, before she puts the cold cream on, and you can't face her."
Xander nodded and quickly made a run up the stairs to where he knew Anya would be camped out for the night. Spike just grabbed a packet of blood, deciding it wasn't even worth heating, and made his way to the basement and some peace and quiet.
