Still Bound, Chapter 11
Interlude between "Gone" and "Dead Again." Spike gets closer to his goal. Willow/Tara reconstruct while Xander/Anya deconstruct.
Some of you may have missed chapter 9 due to the fact that it was a re- post, replacing old copy with new. If you did, be sure to check it out so that later events in the story make sense.
Thanks again to Zyrya for beta-ing.
Lying on the Summers' couch watching the golden glow of the sunlight through the thin draperies which were all that stood between him and fiery immolation, Spike was content. No, he was more than content. He was peacefully relaxed, smugly pleased, incandescently joyous, gloriously happy, downright bloody at one with the universe. He was on Buffy's couch and all was right with the world.
He was there by invitation, in the middle of the day taking a nap or, more precisely, gloating. An offhand 'It's so late now you might as well spend the day' and he was admitted to the inner sanctum. Actually the inner sanctum would be Buffy's bedroom, but this was a start.
When Buffy had burst into his crypt last night after avoiding him for over a week, Spike knew it was business only.
"Dawn's missing. She's gone off somewhere with Janice and I think they're in trouble. She should have been home hours ago."
Without a word Spike jumped up, grabbed his coat and followed her out. Although he considered it likely that the chit would turn up eventually when she was good and ready, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to spend quality tracking time with Buffy.
Turned out the evening was a bit more exciting than that. Dawn and that little tart Janice had hooked up with a pair of teenage vamps who wanted to do more than feel up their drawers. There'd been some good fighting and staking of a whole band of youthful fledges, then the Buffy tongue-lashing and metaphorically dragging her errant sister home by the hair. Spike had accompanied.
Once a tearful Dawn was sent to her room, Buffy collapsed on the couch next to Spike and began pouring out her woes.
"I don't know what to do with her. She is so secretive lately. I don't know what she's up to. Her grades are starting to slip. I know Janice is a bad influence but I don't know how to get Dawn to make different friends. It's awful! Now I know what my poor mother went through when I went out at night. Of course I was saving the world, but she didn't know that."
"She's a teenager, Buffy. Give her enough time and she'll grow out of it."
"More like give her enough rope and she'll hang herself. We live on the hellmouth, Spike, I can't just let her 'work through it'. She could be dead by the time she realizes what is responsible behavior and what isn't."
"Well being more accustomed to dining on teenage girls than raising them, I'm probably not the best person to offer advice, but since you've brought it up...."
Buffy frowned and folded her arms in preparation for disagreeing with whatever ideas he might have.
"You might try giving the girl more responsibility and less coddling. She's not too young to have a job of her own, earn her own pocket money. And she'd be a damn sight safer in this town if you'd teach her some fighting skills and arm her with a weapon. I'll even help if you like. I can teach the Bit some defensive moves, give her the inside scoop on what predators look for in a victim, that kind of thing." He waited for the storm of denial and vitriol and was surprised by Buffy's continued silence.
She unfolded her arms and looked thoughtful. "Actually ... you have a point. Other girls her age go babysitting, don't they? I did back in L.A. before I became the Slayer." She paused and Spike let her wheels whirr and click for a bit.
"She really was pretty good with the stake tonight, wasn't she?" Buffy said, almost smiling. "Upset as she was, she kept her cool and did what she had to do."
"Mm-hm."
"All right." She looked at him. "I know she won't learn anything from me the way we argue, but if you're willing to train her then go ahead."
Spike was surprised by her capitulation but he just nodded.
Checking Buffy out from the corner of his eye, he saw she was pale and had shadows under her eyes. She looked exhausted. She was absently rubbing the sides of her distended belly with both hands. Although she really wasn't too large yet, on her small frame the bulge was obvious.
He nodded toward it. "The little spud getting a bit tiresome to haul around?" he asked.
"Sometimes," she admitted. "It's not that heavy really, but it's just so . awkward. Throws my balance off when I'm fighting. I don't like it."
Spike shifted on the couch so that he was facing her. "Turn around," he commanded.
Her eyes shifted nervously and she sat up, poised for flight.
"Come on now, I'm not going to do anything untoward. Not with your little sis right upstairs. Just thought you looked a bit wired is all. Turn!"
With a 'you better not try anything glare', she turned her back. Spike's hands descended on her shoulders and began to massage. At first she was stiff under his kneading fingers, but as he started hitting pressure points and releasing tension, she relaxed like a cat in the hot sun. He worked from her shoulders up to her neck, spent some time easing the muscles there, then moved back down. His hands pushed the tightness ahead of them, leaving limp muscles in their wake.
Buffy moaned a little in her throat. Spike paused for a moment at the sound, gently stroking the skin where his hands lay, lightly circling his thumbs. It was a temptation to replace hands with lips and turn the comforting massage into something much more therapeutic, but he maintained control and forced his hands to resume their work.
After a couple of minutes he removed his hands, ending with a final smoothing stroke over her shoulders.
"Better?" he asked.
"Mm-hm." She sounded more than half asleep but he wasn't ready to let her go.
"So, you want to fill me in on how you got your body back? I hadn't heard from you since that day. Thought you might still be Caspering around SunnyD."
"Yeah. Sorry about that. I got . busy. It turns out the invisibility was courtesy of the same idiots who provided my wacky time shift day, the M'Fashnik demon and both the bank robbery and the diamond theft. Three nerds who imagine themselves super villains are behind it."
"So you caught them," he surmised.
"Not exactly. Willow found out where they were based but by the time I went back the next day they had cleared out." Buffy sounded embarrassed. "I don't think we have to worry about them, though. I whaled on them a little after Willow revisibilized 'em. I think they got the message. They'll probably clear out of town."
"You had these berks under your fists and you let them go?" Spike's voice raised.
"They're human! What could I do? Kill them?"
Spike let that hang.
Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "I don't kill human beings, Spike! And I would've turned them over to the police but they kinda...." her voice lowered and she flushed red, "got away."
"So, you don't kill humans but if it were one of my kind, a demon, that'd done all those things you'd have'em sliced, diced and evaporated by now."
"They have to be exterminated. Demons are inherently evil," Buffy explained solemnly.
"So are some humans," Spike rejoined.
He could feel the tension mounting between them and didn't want to spoil this night so he waved a hand, brushing away the subject. "Whatever. It's your call. You're the Slayer."
"Yes. I am." She frowned.
"Where's Little Red tonight?" he asked, rerouting the conversation.
"On a date with Tara," Buffy's frown faded and she appeared to be making an effort too. "Willow got brave and called her since Dawn thought Tara was in a forgivey space. Hopefully, they're halfway to making up."
Spike glanced at the window. "It's nigh on to morning. I'd say they're probably more than halfway by now."
She smiled. "I certainly hope so. I don't know if I could stand much more of mopey-Willow. It was worse this time than when Oz left."
"Must be true love, then," Spike said.
"I guess so." Buffy sounded surprised, as if realizing for the first time the depths of Willow's feeling for Tara. "To tell the truth," she confided. "I kind of thought it was a phase when Will first told me she had a girlfriend. But now... I don't know, she's just desolate without Tara, and she was so ... complete when they were together. Maybe it is love."
Spike nodded. "Well let's hope the little birds make up, then. That white witch is a quiet one but powerful. Maybe she can keep your girl in line."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy was affronted. "Willow's not out of line. She's as inline as a ... a pair of skates!"
"You just keep tellin' yourself that right up to the day she magics the whole world into a hell dimension or something."
"What?!"
"Right now Red is an accident waiting to happen. She's got too much ability and too little brains to direct it."
"That's not.... Willow is the smartest person I know. She hasn't used magic in weeks now. She's learned her lesson and I trust her completely." Buffy shut down the discussion.
"She's your friend. I guess you'd know her best," Spike said mildly. He examined the flaking black polish on his fingernails, suddenly deciding that he was done with that look and wouldn't paint them again. "Just like I'm sure you were aware that she was gay long before she came out."
Buffy fell silent. She hated letting him have the last word, but there was really nothing to say to that.
After a moment she glanced out at the lightening sky. "It is almost morning," she mused. "You'd have to dash to make it home before sun-up."
Spike wondering where this was going made a non-committal, 'Mm.'
"It's so late now, you might as well spend the day," she offered.
His mouth practically dropped open in shock. "Yeah. All right," he managed.
"Here," she quickly amended. "On the couch!" She jumped up.
Buffy drew the drapes and Spike sat awkwardly for a moment, hands between his knees, before beginning to unlace his boots.
"I'll, um, get you a blanket." She skittered out of the room and was back in a moment, practically throwing the Rug Rats comforter at him. "This is all I could find. It used to be Dawn's."
"'s fine," he muttered. "Thanks."
"If you get thirsty there's ... well, there's no blood in the fridge obviously, and no beer or any other kind of alcohol, but we have, um, I think we have cranapple juice or something."
"Well, least it's red." The corner of his mouth quirked up.
"All right then," she blew out a breath and turned to go. "See ya."
After Buffy went upstairs, Spike was dying for a cigarette. He considered stepping out on the back porch and having one, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his new position. He had been invited in, and by god he was staying in.
He could hear Buffy up in her room. The floor creaked as she moved about getting ready for sleep. He could hear water running in the bathroom, the flush of a toilet, then a different kind of creak as she settled on her bed. He wondered if this invitation to stay was something more. Did she intend for him to creep upstairs and join her there? Better to stay put than misread her signals, he decided.
He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. He would stay on the couch and go to sleep, although he didn't know how he would manage to get any rest at all with Buffy just a heartbeat away. When Spike opened his eyes again, it was afternoon and the sun blazed behind the thin drapes of the picture window.
***********
Spike's mental replay of the previous evening ended when the front door crashed open and Dawn arrived home from school. She threw her bag down in the hall and strode over to stand above him, staring down, arms folded. He blinked at her upside down face looming over him.
"You're just now waking up? Jeez, what a lazy ass."
"Well maybe if someone hadn't kept me out scouring Sunnyhell looking for her 'til all hours of the morning, I wouldn't be so tired," he replied dryly.
Dawn's face fell, but she covered with a scowl and a pout. "I would've been all right," she insisted. "I took care of Justin myself, didn't I?" She turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen.
Spike yawned and stretched, enjoying the warmth if not the slight prickling sensation from the sun. He supposed he ought to smooth things over with the Bit so he got up and followed her from the room. The kid was obviously troubled and not sharing with Big Sis these days, so he'd see what he could do with her.
Dawn was cutting slices of cheese from a big wedge when he entered the room. Spike crossed to the counter and leaned against it watching her.
"Crackers are in there," she snapped after a moment, pointing to a cupboard. He crouched down to rummage them out.
"So Buffy still made you go to school today after your big night out?" he asked.
"She told me if she had to drag herself to work, I had to go to school," Dawn complained. "Janice's mom didn't make her."
"Janice's mom is raising a little hellion." Spike straightened, a box of Wheat Thins in his hand.
Dawn shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"You did well last night, Niblet," he remarked offhandedly. "So good in fact that I've talked your sister into letting me train you in some hand-to- hand. What do you think?" he asked, opening the box.
She dropped her knife and whirled to face him. "Are you kidding?! You are kidding - Buffy would never let me." She began to pout again. "That's not funny, Spike."
"Not joking," he said. "I reminded her you're a big girl now and you should be able to protect yourself and she agreed."
"That's fantastic," Dawn squealed and appeared about to launch herself into his arms. Spike sidestepped and turned toward the counter. The girl half hugged his arm anyway.
"Don't hyperventilate," he admonished. "It's not going to be a stroll in the cemetery, you know. You'll be doing some real work. Getting sweaty and bruised and knocked about, but when we're through you'll hopefully be a little safer."
It was obvious the sweaty and bruised part had passed right in and out of Dawn's ears and all she'd heard was that she was going to be transformed into a fighter just like her superpowered sister. She began chattering away as she arranged the sliced cheese on the crackers and topped each with a half an olive.
Spike tuned her out after, "...and I wanna work with nunchucks. They're the coolest. I'll be like a ninja, all stealthy and creeping through the night, then BAM! pouncing...." He smiled and nodded and daydreamed about Buffy coming home and asking him to stay for dinner.
********
Willow woke to a Tara-scented pillow under her cheek. She turned her head into it, breathed deeply and smiled. She didn't think she'd ever been so content in her life. Finding Tara and falling in love with her had been fantastic, but reuniting with her lover after almost losing her was even better. Willow was so blissed out she felt like she was on drugs - not that she knew what drugs felt like. No, it was more like the rush she got when the power surged through her while doing a spell. That's what loving Tara was like.
She checked the bedside clock and was surprised to find it was already mid afternoon and that she had missed the one class she was taking this summer. Then she saw the note propped next to the clock on lemon-scented paper. She seized and read it eagerly.
"Sweetie, I had to go to work, but I couldn't bear to wake you to say goodbye. You look so cute when you sleep with your hand all twisted up in your hair and that little frown puckering your forehead, and you make that adorable whistling 'pooh' through your lips. I could hardly stand to leave you. I know you have a class today. I'll see you after, though, same time same bed? I've missed you so much these past weeks. I love you, sweetheart. I know you're trying and that everything's going to be better now. Love, Tara"
Willow pressed the note to her lips inhaling Tara's favorite scent from the message. Oh god, she would never do anything to mess this up again. Never!
She counted the hours until she could see Tara again and realized there were far too many. Well, she would just have to visit her at work. Nothing said she couldn't stop by the health food store and browse, and if she just happened to run into her snuggle honey restocking herbal teas or those cardboard tasting fiber bars, so be it.
Willow leaped out of bed, dressed only in the wide, happy grin on her face, and headed in to the bathroom to shower.
***********
Xander trudged up the stairs to his apartment, beat from a long, arduous day of hauling drywall up two flights of stairs. He slipped the key into the lock and then paused. He could hardly bear to turn it, open the door and find the apartment Anya-free for six days and counting. He'd never dreamed he would miss her so much.
Since Anya stormed his life at their first date, the senior prom, Xander had felt rather like a flood victim. He was swept along in the waters with not a stick to grab onto. Helpless to fight it, he had just bobbed about in rough current or gentle eddies, but always at the river's mercy. Her moving out had left him high and dry and gasping for breath.
The first couple of days it was actually a relief to be apart but by the third day he felt an uncomfortable itch somewhere deep inside, which by the fourth day had turned into a sort of ache. The fifth day the ache was throbbing painfully like a boil that needed lancing. Today ... Xander was ready to see the doctor. And this was only week one!
True, Anya had made it clear that they weren't officially 'broken up'. All he had to do was call her and ask her out on a date. But she hadn't called him once. It was obvious that she was leaving the ball in his playground, waiting to see what he would do, and that just pissed him off. Testing! That's what it was. She was giving him some kind of boyfriend test to force him to admit how much he missed her, and he was not going to be played like that. He had pride, damn it. He would not call.
Xander turned the key in the lock and opened the door to hear his own voice on the answering machine, "...leave a message." He dove for the phone.
"Yeah? I'm here," he said, breathlessly.
"Good evening. Is this ... Alexander Harris?" A thickly accented voice spoke through both the phone and the answering machine speaker.
Telemarketer.
"No. I'm subletting." He hung up.
Damn telemarketers. His heart was pounding.
Xander's hand hovered over the phone and came to rest on the receiver. He started to lift it but put it back. Not yet. First a nice hot shower, some dinner and a beer then he'd see. Come to think of it, the shower could wait. Beer first.
He sat on the fancy little chintz-covered chair Anya had insisted on placing in the entrance hall. As he unlaced his work boots, he thought how she'd scream if she saw him on her carefully chosen upholstery in his dust coated clothes. Maybe he wouldn't call at all tonight. Nothing so bad about being a bachelor, after all.
There was no one to complain when he took his sweaty, smelly body into the kitchen and pulled a cold Pabst out of the fridge. There was no whining when he sprawled out on the couch in his dirty jeans and set the bottle on the table without a coaster. And there was no comment when he channel surfed so quickly the colors practically bled or when he landed on a channel that actually had mud-wrestling women. No one said a word when dinner was a bag of chips, crusty, leftover lasagna, no veggies at all, and two more beers.
A couple of hours later in the bathroom, Xander set the water running to warm it up. He stripped, entered the shower and totally wet himself down before he remembered that he needed a new bottle of shampoo. Cursing, he stepped back out of the shower and dripped across the floor to the cupboard where it was stored. He fumbled around, knocking ointments and cold remedies, lotion and hydrogen peroxide out of the way. No new shampoo.
Instead he pulled out a bottle of green liquid, stared at it and then unscrewed the cap and breathed deeply. Anya's apple scented bubble bath. An instant snapshot memory flashed in his mind of her emerging from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry robe, her body redolent of a sweet orchard in springtime. He remembered her jumping onto the bed next to him, chattering all the while, untying the robe and sprawling full length along his body. She would be pressed against him, warm, moist, and smelling like the sour apple Laffy Taffy he used to love so much as a kid.
Xander clutched the bottle tight and tears welled. The ache inside him, which had been banked like hot coals all day, roared to fiery life. He rubbed the heel of his hand furiously across his eyes. Damn! He was losing it. This was just ridiculous. The woman had only been gone a few days.
He screwed the lid carefully back on the bottle and replaced it in the cupboard. Then he considered that he still didn't have shampoo and wondered if bubble bath would work just as well. He took Anya's scent into the shower with him.
********
Buffy arrived home bone tired from the previous night's search for Dawn and the even longer day serving up fast food to the hungry masses. It seemed like everyone in Sunnydale had chosen today to go quick and cholesterol for lunch.
She dumped her keys and purse on the hall table, checked the mail for another anonymous envelope from Giles, and walked into the living room where she found Dawn and Spike playing cards.
"No! One-eyed jacks are not wild. Nothing is wild. Do you want to be a serious player or not?" He broke off and a smile lighted his face as he saw Buffy.
"It's a game Spike! It's not supposed to be serious," Dawn argued, then greeted her sister. "Hey."
"Is this part of Dawn's education?" Buffy asked, eyeing the cards.
"Knowing how to bluff can be critical when facing an opponent," Dawn recited as her mentor had taught her. "Spike's teaching me poker face. See." She stared at Buffy, completely deadpan.
"Works in life as well as cards," he explained. "Doesn't do to leave your emotions out where anyone can see them."
Buffy almost laughed. The combination of being lightheaded with hunger, sleepy as a winter bear and hearing Spike wisely pontificate on the very thing at which he sucked made her feel quite giddy.
"We made soup," Dawn said. "And I'll fix you a tuna salad sandwich if you want to shower and change." It was always wonderful around the house for a while after Dawn had really screwed up. Buffy accepted the peace offering and went to clean up.
After eating her dinner and spending quality time listening to Dawn and Spike bicker, Buffy broke up the poker game and had Dawn pop in a video. The teen chose the Mandy Moore epic "A Walk to Remember" despite Spike's protests and was soon deeply engrossed in the weepy drama.
On the couch Buffy nestled against pillows at one end while Spike cradled her feet at the other. She hadn't intended for that to happen. She had curled her legs up so that she inhabited no more than her 2.5 share of the cushions, but when she shifted and her foot happened to brush against his leg, he had casually drawn both her feet onto his lap. It would've been too awkward to pull away as if it meant anything to her, so, with a quick glance to make sure Dawn was still wrapped up in Mandy's troubles, she just left them there.
Then he started with the rubbing and she couldn't have moved if Bob Barker himself had offered her a Hawaiian vacation and a new entertainment system. It felt so good, in fact, that she was soon half asleep.
The dozy spell was broken when Buffy felt a sudden pressure in her abdomen. Her eyes flew open and her hand went to her stomach. The weird, fluttery feeling repeated softly like an echo, then harder again. She could feel the baby shift and kick from the outside as well. It moved under her hand like a trapped bird.
Buffy sat up, pulling her feet back into her own sphere. "Dawn! Come feel this."
"What?" Dawn jerked from her doze with a start.
"The baby's moving."
"Really? Cool!" Dawn was on her knees by her sister's side in a second, eagerly placing her hand on the smooth, rounded surface under which life was swimming. "Wow!" she breathed. "It's really alive in there. It feels so weird."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed.
"Spike, come feel this," Dawn urged the vampire, who had remained silent but observant during this exchange.
"No," he said. "I don't think so."
"Come on. It's really neat."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Are you afraid?"
"No. I just don't want to," his voice began to rise in annoyance.
"You are. This creeps you out," Dawn crowed. "Big Bad's grossed out by a tiny, little floating human fetus!"
"Don't be ridiculous," he sulked.
"Then touch it. I dare you," Dawn jeered.
Buffy watched in amusement and approval as her sister baited and bullied the vampire.
"All right. I will," he exploded. He slid over on the couch and Dawn grabbed his wrist and put his hand on the pulsating life in Buffy's belly. Of course the baby chose that moment to stop moving.
"Give it a second. It'll probably start up again."
Buffy watched Spike's intensely concentrating face, as he stared at his hand resting on the thin white material of her shirt. Suddenly the baby kicked and Spike jumped and pulled back like he'd been burned.
"Christ!" he muttered. "You people carry little strangers around inside you and you think vampires are scary?"
Dawn burst out laughing and Buffy grinned.
"Oh, glad I can amuse," Spike huffed, withdrawing to his corner of the couch. "Could you stop your hen clucking so we can hear the movie?" he demanded.
Dawn got her giggles under control then teased, "I thought this movie was 'an example of the bloody travesty that occurs when a pop star thinks she can act.'"
Spike just growled - literally, sounding like a peevish tiger.
Uncharacteristically demonstrative, Buffy gave Dawn a big smile and a hand squeeze before her sister returned to her chair. The Slayer then curled back into a ball on her corner of the couch, still rubbing a hand absently over her mound of baby. She was feeling all motherly and nesty. This must be the famous 'pregnant woman glow' she'd heard about.
Staring at the TV screen, Buffy went off into a daydream about walking with her little son in the park; feeding the ducks, showing him nature type stuff and romping with him in the playground. And as her fantasy slipped into dream, she imagined a shadowy daddy figure with them. Only it wasn't Riley.
When she awoke again, the TV screen was blue and Dawn was sprawled in the chair breathing through her open mouth. Spike, too, was asleep with his head tilted at an awkward angle against the back of the couch, Buffy's feet cradled in his lap again, and his right hand loosely clasped around her ankle.
To be continued....
Interlude between "Gone" and "Dead Again." Spike gets closer to his goal. Willow/Tara reconstruct while Xander/Anya deconstruct.
Some of you may have missed chapter 9 due to the fact that it was a re- post, replacing old copy with new. If you did, be sure to check it out so that later events in the story make sense.
Thanks again to Zyrya for beta-ing.
Lying on the Summers' couch watching the golden glow of the sunlight through the thin draperies which were all that stood between him and fiery immolation, Spike was content. No, he was more than content. He was peacefully relaxed, smugly pleased, incandescently joyous, gloriously happy, downright bloody at one with the universe. He was on Buffy's couch and all was right with the world.
He was there by invitation, in the middle of the day taking a nap or, more precisely, gloating. An offhand 'It's so late now you might as well spend the day' and he was admitted to the inner sanctum. Actually the inner sanctum would be Buffy's bedroom, but this was a start.
When Buffy had burst into his crypt last night after avoiding him for over a week, Spike knew it was business only.
"Dawn's missing. She's gone off somewhere with Janice and I think they're in trouble. She should have been home hours ago."
Without a word Spike jumped up, grabbed his coat and followed her out. Although he considered it likely that the chit would turn up eventually when she was good and ready, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to spend quality tracking time with Buffy.
Turned out the evening was a bit more exciting than that. Dawn and that little tart Janice had hooked up with a pair of teenage vamps who wanted to do more than feel up their drawers. There'd been some good fighting and staking of a whole band of youthful fledges, then the Buffy tongue-lashing and metaphorically dragging her errant sister home by the hair. Spike had accompanied.
Once a tearful Dawn was sent to her room, Buffy collapsed on the couch next to Spike and began pouring out her woes.
"I don't know what to do with her. She is so secretive lately. I don't know what she's up to. Her grades are starting to slip. I know Janice is a bad influence but I don't know how to get Dawn to make different friends. It's awful! Now I know what my poor mother went through when I went out at night. Of course I was saving the world, but she didn't know that."
"She's a teenager, Buffy. Give her enough time and she'll grow out of it."
"More like give her enough rope and she'll hang herself. We live on the hellmouth, Spike, I can't just let her 'work through it'. She could be dead by the time she realizes what is responsible behavior and what isn't."
"Well being more accustomed to dining on teenage girls than raising them, I'm probably not the best person to offer advice, but since you've brought it up...."
Buffy frowned and folded her arms in preparation for disagreeing with whatever ideas he might have.
"You might try giving the girl more responsibility and less coddling. She's not too young to have a job of her own, earn her own pocket money. And she'd be a damn sight safer in this town if you'd teach her some fighting skills and arm her with a weapon. I'll even help if you like. I can teach the Bit some defensive moves, give her the inside scoop on what predators look for in a victim, that kind of thing." He waited for the storm of denial and vitriol and was surprised by Buffy's continued silence.
She unfolded her arms and looked thoughtful. "Actually ... you have a point. Other girls her age go babysitting, don't they? I did back in L.A. before I became the Slayer." She paused and Spike let her wheels whirr and click for a bit.
"She really was pretty good with the stake tonight, wasn't she?" Buffy said, almost smiling. "Upset as she was, she kept her cool and did what she had to do."
"Mm-hm."
"All right." She looked at him. "I know she won't learn anything from me the way we argue, but if you're willing to train her then go ahead."
Spike was surprised by her capitulation but he just nodded.
Checking Buffy out from the corner of his eye, he saw she was pale and had shadows under her eyes. She looked exhausted. She was absently rubbing the sides of her distended belly with both hands. Although she really wasn't too large yet, on her small frame the bulge was obvious.
He nodded toward it. "The little spud getting a bit tiresome to haul around?" he asked.
"Sometimes," she admitted. "It's not that heavy really, but it's just so . awkward. Throws my balance off when I'm fighting. I don't like it."
Spike shifted on the couch so that he was facing her. "Turn around," he commanded.
Her eyes shifted nervously and she sat up, poised for flight.
"Come on now, I'm not going to do anything untoward. Not with your little sis right upstairs. Just thought you looked a bit wired is all. Turn!"
With a 'you better not try anything glare', she turned her back. Spike's hands descended on her shoulders and began to massage. At first she was stiff under his kneading fingers, but as he started hitting pressure points and releasing tension, she relaxed like a cat in the hot sun. He worked from her shoulders up to her neck, spent some time easing the muscles there, then moved back down. His hands pushed the tightness ahead of them, leaving limp muscles in their wake.
Buffy moaned a little in her throat. Spike paused for a moment at the sound, gently stroking the skin where his hands lay, lightly circling his thumbs. It was a temptation to replace hands with lips and turn the comforting massage into something much more therapeutic, but he maintained control and forced his hands to resume their work.
After a couple of minutes he removed his hands, ending with a final smoothing stroke over her shoulders.
"Better?" he asked.
"Mm-hm." She sounded more than half asleep but he wasn't ready to let her go.
"So, you want to fill me in on how you got your body back? I hadn't heard from you since that day. Thought you might still be Caspering around SunnyD."
"Yeah. Sorry about that. I got . busy. It turns out the invisibility was courtesy of the same idiots who provided my wacky time shift day, the M'Fashnik demon and both the bank robbery and the diamond theft. Three nerds who imagine themselves super villains are behind it."
"So you caught them," he surmised.
"Not exactly. Willow found out where they were based but by the time I went back the next day they had cleared out." Buffy sounded embarrassed. "I don't think we have to worry about them, though. I whaled on them a little after Willow revisibilized 'em. I think they got the message. They'll probably clear out of town."
"You had these berks under your fists and you let them go?" Spike's voice raised.
"They're human! What could I do? Kill them?"
Spike let that hang.
Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "I don't kill human beings, Spike! And I would've turned them over to the police but they kinda...." her voice lowered and she flushed red, "got away."
"So, you don't kill humans but if it were one of my kind, a demon, that'd done all those things you'd have'em sliced, diced and evaporated by now."
"They have to be exterminated. Demons are inherently evil," Buffy explained solemnly.
"So are some humans," Spike rejoined.
He could feel the tension mounting between them and didn't want to spoil this night so he waved a hand, brushing away the subject. "Whatever. It's your call. You're the Slayer."
"Yes. I am." She frowned.
"Where's Little Red tonight?" he asked, rerouting the conversation.
"On a date with Tara," Buffy's frown faded and she appeared to be making an effort too. "Willow got brave and called her since Dawn thought Tara was in a forgivey space. Hopefully, they're halfway to making up."
Spike glanced at the window. "It's nigh on to morning. I'd say they're probably more than halfway by now."
She smiled. "I certainly hope so. I don't know if I could stand much more of mopey-Willow. It was worse this time than when Oz left."
"Must be true love, then," Spike said.
"I guess so." Buffy sounded surprised, as if realizing for the first time the depths of Willow's feeling for Tara. "To tell the truth," she confided. "I kind of thought it was a phase when Will first told me she had a girlfriend. But now... I don't know, she's just desolate without Tara, and she was so ... complete when they were together. Maybe it is love."
Spike nodded. "Well let's hope the little birds make up, then. That white witch is a quiet one but powerful. Maybe she can keep your girl in line."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy was affronted. "Willow's not out of line. She's as inline as a ... a pair of skates!"
"You just keep tellin' yourself that right up to the day she magics the whole world into a hell dimension or something."
"What?!"
"Right now Red is an accident waiting to happen. She's got too much ability and too little brains to direct it."
"That's not.... Willow is the smartest person I know. She hasn't used magic in weeks now. She's learned her lesson and I trust her completely." Buffy shut down the discussion.
"She's your friend. I guess you'd know her best," Spike said mildly. He examined the flaking black polish on his fingernails, suddenly deciding that he was done with that look and wouldn't paint them again. "Just like I'm sure you were aware that she was gay long before she came out."
Buffy fell silent. She hated letting him have the last word, but there was really nothing to say to that.
After a moment she glanced out at the lightening sky. "It is almost morning," she mused. "You'd have to dash to make it home before sun-up."
Spike wondering where this was going made a non-committal, 'Mm.'
"It's so late now, you might as well spend the day," she offered.
His mouth practically dropped open in shock. "Yeah. All right," he managed.
"Here," she quickly amended. "On the couch!" She jumped up.
Buffy drew the drapes and Spike sat awkwardly for a moment, hands between his knees, before beginning to unlace his boots.
"I'll, um, get you a blanket." She skittered out of the room and was back in a moment, practically throwing the Rug Rats comforter at him. "This is all I could find. It used to be Dawn's."
"'s fine," he muttered. "Thanks."
"If you get thirsty there's ... well, there's no blood in the fridge obviously, and no beer or any other kind of alcohol, but we have, um, I think we have cranapple juice or something."
"Well, least it's red." The corner of his mouth quirked up.
"All right then," she blew out a breath and turned to go. "See ya."
After Buffy went upstairs, Spike was dying for a cigarette. He considered stepping out on the back porch and having one, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his new position. He had been invited in, and by god he was staying in.
He could hear Buffy up in her room. The floor creaked as she moved about getting ready for sleep. He could hear water running in the bathroom, the flush of a toilet, then a different kind of creak as she settled on her bed. He wondered if this invitation to stay was something more. Did she intend for him to creep upstairs and join her there? Better to stay put than misread her signals, he decided.
He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. He would stay on the couch and go to sleep, although he didn't know how he would manage to get any rest at all with Buffy just a heartbeat away. When Spike opened his eyes again, it was afternoon and the sun blazed behind the thin drapes of the picture window.
***********
Spike's mental replay of the previous evening ended when the front door crashed open and Dawn arrived home from school. She threw her bag down in the hall and strode over to stand above him, staring down, arms folded. He blinked at her upside down face looming over him.
"You're just now waking up? Jeez, what a lazy ass."
"Well maybe if someone hadn't kept me out scouring Sunnyhell looking for her 'til all hours of the morning, I wouldn't be so tired," he replied dryly.
Dawn's face fell, but she covered with a scowl and a pout. "I would've been all right," she insisted. "I took care of Justin myself, didn't I?" She turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen.
Spike yawned and stretched, enjoying the warmth if not the slight prickling sensation from the sun. He supposed he ought to smooth things over with the Bit so he got up and followed her from the room. The kid was obviously troubled and not sharing with Big Sis these days, so he'd see what he could do with her.
Dawn was cutting slices of cheese from a big wedge when he entered the room. Spike crossed to the counter and leaned against it watching her.
"Crackers are in there," she snapped after a moment, pointing to a cupboard. He crouched down to rummage them out.
"So Buffy still made you go to school today after your big night out?" he asked.
"She told me if she had to drag herself to work, I had to go to school," Dawn complained. "Janice's mom didn't make her."
"Janice's mom is raising a little hellion." Spike straightened, a box of Wheat Thins in his hand.
Dawn shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"You did well last night, Niblet," he remarked offhandedly. "So good in fact that I've talked your sister into letting me train you in some hand-to- hand. What do you think?" he asked, opening the box.
She dropped her knife and whirled to face him. "Are you kidding?! You are kidding - Buffy would never let me." She began to pout again. "That's not funny, Spike."
"Not joking," he said. "I reminded her you're a big girl now and you should be able to protect yourself and she agreed."
"That's fantastic," Dawn squealed and appeared about to launch herself into his arms. Spike sidestepped and turned toward the counter. The girl half hugged his arm anyway.
"Don't hyperventilate," he admonished. "It's not going to be a stroll in the cemetery, you know. You'll be doing some real work. Getting sweaty and bruised and knocked about, but when we're through you'll hopefully be a little safer."
It was obvious the sweaty and bruised part had passed right in and out of Dawn's ears and all she'd heard was that she was going to be transformed into a fighter just like her superpowered sister. She began chattering away as she arranged the sliced cheese on the crackers and topped each with a half an olive.
Spike tuned her out after, "...and I wanna work with nunchucks. They're the coolest. I'll be like a ninja, all stealthy and creeping through the night, then BAM! pouncing...." He smiled and nodded and daydreamed about Buffy coming home and asking him to stay for dinner.
********
Willow woke to a Tara-scented pillow under her cheek. She turned her head into it, breathed deeply and smiled. She didn't think she'd ever been so content in her life. Finding Tara and falling in love with her had been fantastic, but reuniting with her lover after almost losing her was even better. Willow was so blissed out she felt like she was on drugs - not that she knew what drugs felt like. No, it was more like the rush she got when the power surged through her while doing a spell. That's what loving Tara was like.
She checked the bedside clock and was surprised to find it was already mid afternoon and that she had missed the one class she was taking this summer. Then she saw the note propped next to the clock on lemon-scented paper. She seized and read it eagerly.
"Sweetie, I had to go to work, but I couldn't bear to wake you to say goodbye. You look so cute when you sleep with your hand all twisted up in your hair and that little frown puckering your forehead, and you make that adorable whistling 'pooh' through your lips. I could hardly stand to leave you. I know you have a class today. I'll see you after, though, same time same bed? I've missed you so much these past weeks. I love you, sweetheart. I know you're trying and that everything's going to be better now. Love, Tara"
Willow pressed the note to her lips inhaling Tara's favorite scent from the message. Oh god, she would never do anything to mess this up again. Never!
She counted the hours until she could see Tara again and realized there were far too many. Well, she would just have to visit her at work. Nothing said she couldn't stop by the health food store and browse, and if she just happened to run into her snuggle honey restocking herbal teas or those cardboard tasting fiber bars, so be it.
Willow leaped out of bed, dressed only in the wide, happy grin on her face, and headed in to the bathroom to shower.
***********
Xander trudged up the stairs to his apartment, beat from a long, arduous day of hauling drywall up two flights of stairs. He slipped the key into the lock and then paused. He could hardly bear to turn it, open the door and find the apartment Anya-free for six days and counting. He'd never dreamed he would miss her so much.
Since Anya stormed his life at their first date, the senior prom, Xander had felt rather like a flood victim. He was swept along in the waters with not a stick to grab onto. Helpless to fight it, he had just bobbed about in rough current or gentle eddies, but always at the river's mercy. Her moving out had left him high and dry and gasping for breath.
The first couple of days it was actually a relief to be apart but by the third day he felt an uncomfortable itch somewhere deep inside, which by the fourth day had turned into a sort of ache. The fifth day the ache was throbbing painfully like a boil that needed lancing. Today ... Xander was ready to see the doctor. And this was only week one!
True, Anya had made it clear that they weren't officially 'broken up'. All he had to do was call her and ask her out on a date. But she hadn't called him once. It was obvious that she was leaving the ball in his playground, waiting to see what he would do, and that just pissed him off. Testing! That's what it was. She was giving him some kind of boyfriend test to force him to admit how much he missed her, and he was not going to be played like that. He had pride, damn it. He would not call.
Xander turned the key in the lock and opened the door to hear his own voice on the answering machine, "...leave a message." He dove for the phone.
"Yeah? I'm here," he said, breathlessly.
"Good evening. Is this ... Alexander Harris?" A thickly accented voice spoke through both the phone and the answering machine speaker.
Telemarketer.
"No. I'm subletting." He hung up.
Damn telemarketers. His heart was pounding.
Xander's hand hovered over the phone and came to rest on the receiver. He started to lift it but put it back. Not yet. First a nice hot shower, some dinner and a beer then he'd see. Come to think of it, the shower could wait. Beer first.
He sat on the fancy little chintz-covered chair Anya had insisted on placing in the entrance hall. As he unlaced his work boots, he thought how she'd scream if she saw him on her carefully chosen upholstery in his dust coated clothes. Maybe he wouldn't call at all tonight. Nothing so bad about being a bachelor, after all.
There was no one to complain when he took his sweaty, smelly body into the kitchen and pulled a cold Pabst out of the fridge. There was no whining when he sprawled out on the couch in his dirty jeans and set the bottle on the table without a coaster. And there was no comment when he channel surfed so quickly the colors practically bled or when he landed on a channel that actually had mud-wrestling women. No one said a word when dinner was a bag of chips, crusty, leftover lasagna, no veggies at all, and two more beers.
A couple of hours later in the bathroom, Xander set the water running to warm it up. He stripped, entered the shower and totally wet himself down before he remembered that he needed a new bottle of shampoo. Cursing, he stepped back out of the shower and dripped across the floor to the cupboard where it was stored. He fumbled around, knocking ointments and cold remedies, lotion and hydrogen peroxide out of the way. No new shampoo.
Instead he pulled out a bottle of green liquid, stared at it and then unscrewed the cap and breathed deeply. Anya's apple scented bubble bath. An instant snapshot memory flashed in his mind of her emerging from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry robe, her body redolent of a sweet orchard in springtime. He remembered her jumping onto the bed next to him, chattering all the while, untying the robe and sprawling full length along his body. She would be pressed against him, warm, moist, and smelling like the sour apple Laffy Taffy he used to love so much as a kid.
Xander clutched the bottle tight and tears welled. The ache inside him, which had been banked like hot coals all day, roared to fiery life. He rubbed the heel of his hand furiously across his eyes. Damn! He was losing it. This was just ridiculous. The woman had only been gone a few days.
He screwed the lid carefully back on the bottle and replaced it in the cupboard. Then he considered that he still didn't have shampoo and wondered if bubble bath would work just as well. He took Anya's scent into the shower with him.
********
Buffy arrived home bone tired from the previous night's search for Dawn and the even longer day serving up fast food to the hungry masses. It seemed like everyone in Sunnydale had chosen today to go quick and cholesterol for lunch.
She dumped her keys and purse on the hall table, checked the mail for another anonymous envelope from Giles, and walked into the living room where she found Dawn and Spike playing cards.
"No! One-eyed jacks are not wild. Nothing is wild. Do you want to be a serious player or not?" He broke off and a smile lighted his face as he saw Buffy.
"It's a game Spike! It's not supposed to be serious," Dawn argued, then greeted her sister. "Hey."
"Is this part of Dawn's education?" Buffy asked, eyeing the cards.
"Knowing how to bluff can be critical when facing an opponent," Dawn recited as her mentor had taught her. "Spike's teaching me poker face. See." She stared at Buffy, completely deadpan.
"Works in life as well as cards," he explained. "Doesn't do to leave your emotions out where anyone can see them."
Buffy almost laughed. The combination of being lightheaded with hunger, sleepy as a winter bear and hearing Spike wisely pontificate on the very thing at which he sucked made her feel quite giddy.
"We made soup," Dawn said. "And I'll fix you a tuna salad sandwich if you want to shower and change." It was always wonderful around the house for a while after Dawn had really screwed up. Buffy accepted the peace offering and went to clean up.
After eating her dinner and spending quality time listening to Dawn and Spike bicker, Buffy broke up the poker game and had Dawn pop in a video. The teen chose the Mandy Moore epic "A Walk to Remember" despite Spike's protests and was soon deeply engrossed in the weepy drama.
On the couch Buffy nestled against pillows at one end while Spike cradled her feet at the other. She hadn't intended for that to happen. She had curled her legs up so that she inhabited no more than her 2.5 share of the cushions, but when she shifted and her foot happened to brush against his leg, he had casually drawn both her feet onto his lap. It would've been too awkward to pull away as if it meant anything to her, so, with a quick glance to make sure Dawn was still wrapped up in Mandy's troubles, she just left them there.
Then he started with the rubbing and she couldn't have moved if Bob Barker himself had offered her a Hawaiian vacation and a new entertainment system. It felt so good, in fact, that she was soon half asleep.
The dozy spell was broken when Buffy felt a sudden pressure in her abdomen. Her eyes flew open and her hand went to her stomach. The weird, fluttery feeling repeated softly like an echo, then harder again. She could feel the baby shift and kick from the outside as well. It moved under her hand like a trapped bird.
Buffy sat up, pulling her feet back into her own sphere. "Dawn! Come feel this."
"What?" Dawn jerked from her doze with a start.
"The baby's moving."
"Really? Cool!" Dawn was on her knees by her sister's side in a second, eagerly placing her hand on the smooth, rounded surface under which life was swimming. "Wow!" she breathed. "It's really alive in there. It feels so weird."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed.
"Spike, come feel this," Dawn urged the vampire, who had remained silent but observant during this exchange.
"No," he said. "I don't think so."
"Come on. It's really neat."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Are you afraid?"
"No. I just don't want to," his voice began to rise in annoyance.
"You are. This creeps you out," Dawn crowed. "Big Bad's grossed out by a tiny, little floating human fetus!"
"Don't be ridiculous," he sulked.
"Then touch it. I dare you," Dawn jeered.
Buffy watched in amusement and approval as her sister baited and bullied the vampire.
"All right. I will," he exploded. He slid over on the couch and Dawn grabbed his wrist and put his hand on the pulsating life in Buffy's belly. Of course the baby chose that moment to stop moving.
"Give it a second. It'll probably start up again."
Buffy watched Spike's intensely concentrating face, as he stared at his hand resting on the thin white material of her shirt. Suddenly the baby kicked and Spike jumped and pulled back like he'd been burned.
"Christ!" he muttered. "You people carry little strangers around inside you and you think vampires are scary?"
Dawn burst out laughing and Buffy grinned.
"Oh, glad I can amuse," Spike huffed, withdrawing to his corner of the couch. "Could you stop your hen clucking so we can hear the movie?" he demanded.
Dawn got her giggles under control then teased, "I thought this movie was 'an example of the bloody travesty that occurs when a pop star thinks she can act.'"
Spike just growled - literally, sounding like a peevish tiger.
Uncharacteristically demonstrative, Buffy gave Dawn a big smile and a hand squeeze before her sister returned to her chair. The Slayer then curled back into a ball on her corner of the couch, still rubbing a hand absently over her mound of baby. She was feeling all motherly and nesty. This must be the famous 'pregnant woman glow' she'd heard about.
Staring at the TV screen, Buffy went off into a daydream about walking with her little son in the park; feeding the ducks, showing him nature type stuff and romping with him in the playground. And as her fantasy slipped into dream, she imagined a shadowy daddy figure with them. Only it wasn't Riley.
When she awoke again, the TV screen was blue and Dawn was sprawled in the chair breathing through her open mouth. Spike, too, was asleep with his head tilted at an awkward angle against the back of the couch, Buffy's feet cradled in his lap again, and his right hand loosely clasped around her ankle.
To be continued....