CHAPTER 18 - THE HEART OF WILLIAM
"How?"
"I'll tell you once you're back inside, having your breakfast, which is getting cold as we speak, and you're all nice and warm again, ok?" he said, getting up and picking up Buffy like a sack of potatoes.
"Stop," she laughed, "I can walk."
"Nope, enough cold, wet snow on me-lady, for now!" he said, and carried her back into the house, through the kitchen, dining room, living room, and to the door of her bedroom.
"Now go change, like a good girl!" he said, setting her down, giving her a gentle push on her behind, into the bedroom.
"Tell me, Spike!"
"After you change. I'm going to re-warm your breakfast for now," he said walking away.
"Aren't you going to change, too?"
"After breakfast; cold and wet doesn't really bother me," he said, as he walked into the kitchen.
'Obviously, not the daylight around here, either,' Buffy mused to herself, as she walked into the bedroom.
A couple of minutes later, she reappeared in the kitchen.
Expecting more of the Victorian look, she almost laughed when she walked into the kitchen. It had a small, old-fashioned linoleum covered table, chrome outside around the edges and two chairs, obviously a throwback to the 60's. Along the opposite wall from the door to the porch and outside, there was a much older 30's style stove and Fridgedair-type icebox.
The table was set with an odd collection of both antique type dishes and 60's style silverware.
Spike handed her a cup of coffee, "Cream and sugar, right?"
She nodded, as he brought out a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast and set them down.
"Sit, eat," he said, pulling out a chair for her, then sitting opposite her, a cup of coffee and a cup of blood in front of him.
She started to ask him again, but hunger got the better of her, as she dove into her breakfast.
"Good?" he asked her. "Not much of a cook, but I've been watching your resident 'Guestage,' Andrew," he said laughing.
She rolled her eyes, "It's good, really. Best breakfast ever!" she said, stuffing her mouth with a piece of toast.
They made small talk until finally, four eggs, five slices of bacon, and three pieces of toast; she was finished.
She wiped her mouth on her napkin and set it down, "Thank you Spike, that was great, I didn't realize how hungry I was. God, I ate a lot!"
"Yeah, Slayer, I mean Buffy, you sure can put it away, for a little tiny thing," Spike said, laughing at her indignant face she was giving him.
"Okay, Spike. I ate my breakfast, now tell me: how?"
"How I don't do an imitation of a 'burning bush,' you mean, luv?"
Buffy nodded.
Spike stood up, "I'll show you," he extended his hand to her.
He walked her through the door leading to the porch and beyond again.
"Remember how I told you that when I sold some of the land for mining, that I made sure the buyers re-forested, re-planted, re-whatever'd you call it, when they were done? Well, as I was building, and remember, it's been over 60 years since this place was first started, I made sure that trees were replanted, too, where they'd been felled. Lots of dense, fast-growing trees," Spike said.
Buffy looked at him questioningly, "What does that have to do with..."
"It's dense, Buffy. Really densely forested around here. I've made sure that over the years, that the trees were close together, that the sun couldn't get through them, not in most places around here anyway; made myself some paths along the densest parts of the forests. I helped the 'density part,' by using some fast-growing types of trees. I even used some thatching techniques the Indians used for roofing, to cover up some areas where the sun would come through the trees; some small areas between them, on some of the paths I made...That's all there is to it, Buffy. Just some tweaking on the fine job 'Mother Nature' made up here and voila! Spike is sun-proofed."
Buffy just looked at him shaking her head in amazement, "But why, Spike, why go to all the bother?"
He looked at her, a puzzled look shadowing his face, "Dunno, pet. Never much thought too deeply about it. Just...sort of...wanted to live more..."
"Like William?" Buffy said softly, finally understanding.
Spike turned quickly away from Buffy, before not before she could see the pain and embarrassment in his face.
you're not a man, you're a thing
She felt her eyes grow moist; even years ago, soulless Spike the killer vampire, had still possessed, to some degree, the heart of William, his sensibilities, his desires. Even before her, he'd wanted to belong, if only to the world around him in his little forested home. All that work, over the years, just to belong
She came up behind him and put her arms around him, nuzzling his neck, "It's beautiful here, Spike," she said, just holding him.
He felt his turmoil release, at her soft touch as he relaxed into her embrace. He cleared his throat, "So, did you bring some warm socks?" he felt her nod into his neck, "good, we could take a walk then, if you like," again felt her nod in agreement.
He turned around to kiss her willing mouth, desire flooding both of them, turning legs into jelly.
He broke it off, "Later pet, that's a promise, going to..." he groaned, letting her know with his kiss and his tongue, instead of with words.
Finally, he stepped back from her, looking at her with desire, shaking his head, "God Buffy..."
"What?" she said, smiling demurely, and taking a step toward him.
"No, no, none of that, or we'll never get out of the house. Go get ready; some things I want to show you," he said, heading back inside to change.
"Oh, okay," she said a little disappointed. Spike sure was being the paragon of virtue around here this morning and it was killing her. Her body, having once again, experienced the sensation that was Spike, was calling out, no, make that 'throbbing out' for more of the same.
"How?"
"I'll tell you once you're back inside, having your breakfast, which is getting cold as we speak, and you're all nice and warm again, ok?" he said, getting up and picking up Buffy like a sack of potatoes.
"Stop," she laughed, "I can walk."
"Nope, enough cold, wet snow on me-lady, for now!" he said, and carried her back into the house, through the kitchen, dining room, living room, and to the door of her bedroom.
"Now go change, like a good girl!" he said, setting her down, giving her a gentle push on her behind, into the bedroom.
"Tell me, Spike!"
"After you change. I'm going to re-warm your breakfast for now," he said walking away.
"Aren't you going to change, too?"
"After breakfast; cold and wet doesn't really bother me," he said, as he walked into the kitchen.
'Obviously, not the daylight around here, either,' Buffy mused to herself, as she walked into the bedroom.
A couple of minutes later, she reappeared in the kitchen.
Expecting more of the Victorian look, she almost laughed when she walked into the kitchen. It had a small, old-fashioned linoleum covered table, chrome outside around the edges and two chairs, obviously a throwback to the 60's. Along the opposite wall from the door to the porch and outside, there was a much older 30's style stove and Fridgedair-type icebox.
The table was set with an odd collection of both antique type dishes and 60's style silverware.
Spike handed her a cup of coffee, "Cream and sugar, right?"
She nodded, as he brought out a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast and set them down.
"Sit, eat," he said, pulling out a chair for her, then sitting opposite her, a cup of coffee and a cup of blood in front of him.
She started to ask him again, but hunger got the better of her, as she dove into her breakfast.
"Good?" he asked her. "Not much of a cook, but I've been watching your resident 'Guestage,' Andrew," he said laughing.
She rolled her eyes, "It's good, really. Best breakfast ever!" she said, stuffing her mouth with a piece of toast.
They made small talk until finally, four eggs, five slices of bacon, and three pieces of toast; she was finished.
She wiped her mouth on her napkin and set it down, "Thank you Spike, that was great, I didn't realize how hungry I was. God, I ate a lot!"
"Yeah, Slayer, I mean Buffy, you sure can put it away, for a little tiny thing," Spike said, laughing at her indignant face she was giving him.
"Okay, Spike. I ate my breakfast, now tell me: how?"
"How I don't do an imitation of a 'burning bush,' you mean, luv?"
Buffy nodded.
Spike stood up, "I'll show you," he extended his hand to her.
He walked her through the door leading to the porch and beyond again.
"Remember how I told you that when I sold some of the land for mining, that I made sure the buyers re-forested, re-planted, re-whatever'd you call it, when they were done? Well, as I was building, and remember, it's been over 60 years since this place was first started, I made sure that trees were replanted, too, where they'd been felled. Lots of dense, fast-growing trees," Spike said.
Buffy looked at him questioningly, "What does that have to do with..."
"It's dense, Buffy. Really densely forested around here. I've made sure that over the years, that the trees were close together, that the sun couldn't get through them, not in most places around here anyway; made myself some paths along the densest parts of the forests. I helped the 'density part,' by using some fast-growing types of trees. I even used some thatching techniques the Indians used for roofing, to cover up some areas where the sun would come through the trees; some small areas between them, on some of the paths I made...That's all there is to it, Buffy. Just some tweaking on the fine job 'Mother Nature' made up here and voila! Spike is sun-proofed."
Buffy just looked at him shaking her head in amazement, "But why, Spike, why go to all the bother?"
He looked at her, a puzzled look shadowing his face, "Dunno, pet. Never much thought too deeply about it. Just...sort of...wanted to live more..."
"Like William?" Buffy said softly, finally understanding.
Spike turned quickly away from Buffy, before not before she could see the pain and embarrassment in his face.
you're not a man, you're a thing
She felt her eyes grow moist; even years ago, soulless Spike the killer vampire, had still possessed, to some degree, the heart of William, his sensibilities, his desires. Even before her, he'd wanted to belong, if only to the world around him in his little forested home. All that work, over the years, just to belong
She came up behind him and put her arms around him, nuzzling his neck, "It's beautiful here, Spike," she said, just holding him.
He felt his turmoil release, at her soft touch as he relaxed into her embrace. He cleared his throat, "So, did you bring some warm socks?" he felt her nod into his neck, "good, we could take a walk then, if you like," again felt her nod in agreement.
He turned around to kiss her willing mouth, desire flooding both of them, turning legs into jelly.
He broke it off, "Later pet, that's a promise, going to..." he groaned, letting her know with his kiss and his tongue, instead of with words.
Finally, he stepped back from her, looking at her with desire, shaking his head, "God Buffy..."
"What?" she said, smiling demurely, and taking a step toward him.
"No, no, none of that, or we'll never get out of the house. Go get ready; some things I want to show you," he said, heading back inside to change.
"Oh, okay," she said a little disappointed. Spike sure was being the paragon of virtue around here this morning and it was killing her. Her body, having once again, experienced the sensation that was Spike, was calling out, no, make that 'throbbing out' for more of the same.