Author's Note: Song lyrics are from "If" by Bread and "I'm Free (Heaven Helps the Man)" by Kenny Loggins. Many thanks to encouraging reviewers of this series including Pattyanne, Annie and Neb!
I have to tell you, I will never fly commercial again. I am completely ruined and that doesn't even begin to cover the Mile High Club that I joined a dozen ways to Sunday. Great sex will always take your mind off of a long flight. Thirteen hours of toe-curling, bone-numbing sex later, we touched down at Wolfram and Hart's very own airstrip in Rome. Spike suggested that I try calling the house one more time -- just in case Andrew and Dawn were, uh, busy. Wouldn't want to go walking in and surprising them now, would we?
I know, I know. Spike and I have gone over this several times. On the plane. In the limo. Now we're sitting in my living room awaiting the happily unaware couple. You can do this, Buff. Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.
"Maybe you could fix me a drink," I suggest to Spike.
He raises his eyebrow and asks me if I'm out of my melon.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, I know what that means. But, yeesh! Stressed a little, here. Not like I'm asking for a trayful of tiny Bacardi bottles... although, at this point, I would not turn that down if offered.
"Fine, Pet," he finally gives in, palms out in a futile attempt to pacify me. "Where's the vino?"
The who? Yeah. I know. Italian Buffy for how long now and I can't make it three steps without referring to my Italian-English dictionary.
"Wine, Love," he grins. He's so damned cheeky sometimes.
I point to the kitchen and hear him rummage through cabinets for a bit. He could have asked where the glasses were. Guess it was a way for him to leave me to stew for a bit. Ten minutes pass before he brings a bottle of cheap screw-top Paisano.
"This must belong to the boy," he guesses. I watch him pour the sanguine liquid into our glasses. It looks a lot like really thin blood. Which makes me wonder when he last fed. Was it the mug of blood he had in the kitchen when Angel interrupted us? I make the decision to offer my throat to him after I have my little talk with Dawn and Andrew. And I make the even bigger decision to let him bite me right over his grand-sire's mark. I want him to claim me. Hell, I want him to mate me. I'm getting deliciously wet just thinking about it.
Spike's watching me over the top of his wine glass. He must smell my arousal because his eyes are sparkling with mischief.
"Now or later, Pet?" he asks me.
"Huh?"
"You want me to shag you senseless now," he asks with a smirk. "Or after you bitch out the Bit for doing the same thing with the boy?"
Way to ruin a moment, Asshole!
"Way to ruin a moment," I tell him, leaving off the asshole part. See? I can do mature.
He continues sipping at his glass of wine. He's watching me. I'm trying to figure out what he's thinking. I wonder if we'll have that telepathic connection after he marks me. Hmm... I never had that with Angel, but I remember reading about it in one Giles' dusty texts. It sounded so intimate. And kind of romantic. Geez, Buffy... kinks much? Sometimes I wonder about myself.
"Thought you wanted some tipple?" he asks me, kind of calling me on staring.
I quickly take a gulp of my wine. Why am I suddenly anxious? And kind of nervous? I can't tear my eyes away from him. So pretty. Such bright, blue eyes. Spike's eyes truly are the windows to his soul. And the strange thing is that they were like that even before he got his soul back. Hmm...
Drusilla used to say crazy shit to him like, uh... oh, I remember one -- your face is a picture. Maybe that wasn't so crazy. His face is a picture. It's taut white silk over sharp angles and smooth planes. It's eyes crafted of multi-faceted lapis lazuli set with smooth onyx centers. It's protruding lips, pink from my kisses and curling tongue behind gleaming white teeth. Makes me think of some old song Mom used to play over and over when I was little...
If a picture paints a thousand words,
then why I can't paint you?
The words will never show the you I've some to know.
if a face could launch a thousand ships,
then where am I to go?
There's no one home but you, You're all that's left me too.
And when my love for life is running dry,
you come and pour yourself on me....
I look into my now empty wine glass and hold it out for him to refill. He quietly pours more wine. I like that about him. He lets me watch him. He sits so silent and still. And I know that it's because he's trying to figure out just what I find so interesting. Once upon a time, he might have called me on it. And I would have run, tail between my legs, off into the night. Not so much, now. Even if he were to call me on my scrutiny, I wouldn't run. I don't know that I'd tell him what was going through my mind, but I wouldn't mind so much if he decided to guess.
"Looks like you've got a lot on your mind, Pet," he says to me as he tops off his own glass.
I nod, not wanting to break the spell. I'm enchanted by him. Completely enamoured. I start taking more greedy gulps from my glass as my eyes move to his hands. No more chipped black nail polish. Hmm... not so much disappointed as a bit surprised. Looks like he's grown up, too. He's wearing a navy blue button-up shirt and dark grey slacks. The duster? He had told me that it was destroyed while he and Angel were in Italy looking for the Immortal. Sure, the Italian offices had sent him a dozen or so of the same, but he said that it just wasn't. The same, that is. And he told me that maybe it was a sign from... well, from somewhere... someone... that he let go of his past. And I'd asked him if letting go of his past meant letting go of me.
"No," he'd smiled. "It means letting go of all the bad things from the past, though. I love you, Buffy. But I won't be love's bitch again."
My sweet vampire. All grown up. It only took him a hundred and twenty some-odd years.
"Have they been here recently?" I ask him. He nods and continues to sip from his glass.
"Do I even want to know if they were doing anything?" I find myself asking, even though I really don't want to know.
"Probably not," he tells me with a devilish glint. "You could always go check their beds. See if one's made and the other isn't."
No. That wouldn't work. Andrew always fixes his bed. He's Mr. Neatnik. And Dawn never fixes her bed. The eternal slob. Which makes me jump up out of my seat and run down the hall.
"Shit!"
He's behind me in seconds. And he's laughing. I feel his cool breath on my neck as he wraps his arms around my waist and peeks into Andrew's room over my shoulder.
Andrew's bed is a mess. The covers are hanging off of it. The fitted sheet is coming up off of the sides. I spy a box of condoms on his night stand and cringe.
"At least they have the sense to wrap the willy while they're shagging," Spike laughs. I'm not laughing. This is not funny. Besides, she's on the pill. Maybe he's not... shagging... my sister after all!
"Know what you're thinking, Love," he tells me. I can hear him sniffing the air. "It's definately her."
Oh, for the love of...
I hear the deadbolt unlock on the front door. Someone is home. How long will it take them to realize that we're home, too?
I hear giggling. I don't think they even realize that we're here.
"That was so much fun, Andrew!" Dawn's gushing. Euw! "The gondola ride was awesome, but when the gondoleer started singing... oh my God, I about peed! It was hilarious!"
"It was supposed to be romantic," he tells her. He doesn't sound angry. Or hurt. He sounds amused. "But hilarious is good, too. I just wanted to do something special for our anniversary."
Anni... anni... anniversary? Anniversary of what? I start to open my mouth and Spike clamps his hand over it just in time to stop me from speaking.
"You know, we should probably tell Buffy," Dawn says softly. Euw! Are they kissing? It sounds like kissage going on in my living room!
"I know. We should. And we will. When she gets back from LA," Andrew agrees.
I bet it was the sneaky little fucker's bright idea to keep this all from me. I'm gonna tear him in two!
"I've been wanting to tell her for so long, Andrew. But I just couldn't do that to her. I mean, how fair is it for me to rub my awesome boyfriend in her face when she's just wasting time waiting for Spike to buy a clue?" Dawn wonders aloud.
"There, there my Little Tulip Blossom," Andrew soothes. "You did what you thought was best. And now that she's reunited with her cherie amour, we can tell her and she can be happy for us, too."
A few more minutes of silence. More kissing, I bet. Again with the euw!
"You do realize that she's gonna blame you for keeping this from her, don't you?" Dawn laughs. "She'll never believe that it was all my idea."
"Perhaps. And perhaps not, Little One." God, he says the cheesiest things. What the Hell does she see in him?
"And she's really gonna be pissed when she finds out that I knew about Spike, too."
She WHAT? His hand tightens on my mouth.
"We can omit that part if you wish, Petal," he tells her. "No need for a double whammy."
More silence.
"He really is like Gandalf the White, isn't he, Frodo?" Dawn asks him. No, please no. Not geeky Hobbit references. I just can't take two of them. Isn't one bad enough?
"Yes, he really is, my darling Arwen."
I want to go out there. I want to scream at both of them. What's the what on everyone protecting delicate Buffy? Secret affairs, boyfriends returning from the dead only to be kept from me? I'm the chosen fucking one here. One girl to blah blah blah. I get to keep the secrets. Not them!
"Um, Andrew... I didn't get sloppy drunk and forget that we had wine earlier, did I?" Dawn suddenly asks.
The jig is up, but Spike still won't let me go. I'm beginning to think he's enjoying this a little too much. I can feel his chest shaking in silent laughter and I can't help it. I stomp on his foot as hard as I can.
"Bloody hell!" he hollers. "What was that for, you crazy bint?"
I hear them scrambling in the living room, murmered 'shits' and 'holy fucks' and a couple of 'we are SO busteds.'
"You bet your Aunt Fanny you're busted!" I yell at them as I tear away from Spike and storm into my living room.
"You are so dead for fucking my baby sister," I tell Andrew as I get ready to take his head off.
Dawn stands in front of him supposedly protecting him from the evil slayer. And Spike is, once again, at my side.
"It was not fucking, Buffy," Dawn tells me.
"That's right. We were making beautiful, sweet love," Andrew agrees.
"Not now, Andrew," Dawn whispers to him. Her cheeks are flushed and she is clearly embarrassed.
"Embarrassed much?" I push. Sometimes I just can't help myself. "If you were really mature enough to be doing that, you wouldn't be so flustered right now," I accuse.
"Have fun fucking Spike all the way back from LA?" she throws at me.
I feel my cheeks go up in flames and she grins so wide I'm not sure her face won't split in two.
"Pot. Kettle. Black." She does have a point.
"You're too young!" I try.
"I'm older than you were!"
"He's way older than you!" I try again.
"Dead Boy was way older than you. Peroxide Bombshell isn't much better," she throws right back at me.
"In MY house?" It's all I've got.
"Andrew pays bills here, too," she reminds me.
I sink down into the couch, Spike at my side, and he's handing me the wine glass before I even ask. I finish off the warm liquid and stare at my hands. They seem to hold all of the answers right now.
"Do you..."
"I love him," she answers before I even finish.
"How long?"
"Eight months," he says quietly.
"You've been with my sister for eight months and never thought of telling me?" I ask trying so hard not to sound as annoyed as I really am. I don't think it's working because Andrew is still cowering behind Dawn.
"We're adults, Buffy," he says simply.
"Never saw this coming," I say, shaking my head.
Dawn's staring at me.
"What?"
"Why not?" she asks me. "Andrew is smart and he's courteous and he's funny as Hell once you get past the whole annoying thing. And he's got a geeky charm. Kind of hard to resist. And he treats me like I'm a person. Not like some barnacle from the past."
I didn't... did I treat her that way? I really hadn't spent a lot of time with her since the showdown at Hellmouth central. I tried to bury myself in Council work. I'd gotten deep in the texty goodness in an effort to avoid any physical dealings. Too many memories of the dances shared with my vampire. And where were Andrew and Dawn while I was drowing in the written word? Off to England to see Giles about a Fyarl demon infestation in Birmingham. Flying to South America to research a mystical gem that linked the wearer to the underworld. Back to the States to New England to join Willow in a seance so that they could find a more accurate recount of the Salem witch trials. Had Giles and Willow known all along? Had I been the only one so blinded by my grief that I couldn't see the forest through the trees?
I feel Spike's hand on my back. He's not moving it, just letting it sit there. Trying to comfort me. Or snap me out of my stupidity. I'll go with the first curtain. I'd like to think he would be able to ignore my stupidity by now.
"I... I didn't know, Dawnie. I didn't mean..."
"It's okay," she tells me, squeezing between me and Spike on the couch. Andrew sits in the comfy chair looking decidely not so comfy.
"We love each other. And if it makes you feel better, we've only been doing it for like..." She looks over at him and he tells her four months. "Yeah. Four months. We, like, actually dated and stuff before doing the nasty."
"Dawn!"
"Bit!"
Spike and I admonish her at the same time.
"Oh, grow up already," she tells us, the smile never leaving her face. "Tell me you haven't been naked most of the time since you found Spike again and I'll tell you what a big, fat liar you are, Buffy Ann Summers," she dares me.
"Okay, okay," I relent. "But I don't have to like it."
Then she drops the bombshell.
"Since Spike is back, now's as good as time as any to tell you that Andrew and I are getting our own place."
Huh?
"Yes, Buffy," Andrew continues for her. "It's a delightful little flat in Piazza Navona just a few meters from San Pietro and the Pantheon. And the perfect location for strolling the antique shops along Via dei Coronari on late Sunday mornings after attending service at Sant' Agnese." He turns to Dawn and asks "And what is that wonderful caffe with the heavenly sfogliatelle, Petal?"
"Pasticceria bella Napoli," Dawn reminds him.
"Ah, si, si, signorina. I just adore a demitasse and a few sfogliatelle before hitting the shops along the Coronari," he smiles, lost in his own little world.
"Are you sure he's not gay?" I ask before I can stop myself.
"Very sure," Dawn says with a wicked gleam in her eye. Again, with the euw! Major wiggins going on here.
"We, uh, kind of figured that you two lovebirds would want your own space," Andrew offers. "And, to be honest, the walls are really thin here and I really think that our sex lives would definately suffer if we had to hear what the others were doing."
Right. Good thinking. It's settled then. Spike's in, Andrew and Dawn are out. And for some reason, they have managed to creep me out so much that I can't wait for them to be out and fast.
"So you'll be moving when?" I ask.
Sometime this week. That fast, huh? And somehow, not fast enough. I feel warm and toasty all over and, for a moment, I'm willing to blame it on the wine. Then I realize that it's more than the wine. I'm free. I'm free to live my own life with the man I love. And, while I'll always love Dawn and worry about her, Andrew really has proven himself capable of making wise decisions when it comes to her welfare. I look around the room and smile at each of them. My eyes finally come to rest on Spike. Maybe I can have a somewhat normal life after all. As normal as can be for a girl who is the chosen one with an ancient key for a sister, a very undead boyfriend and a not-so-gay ex-demon summonser for a future brother-in-law. Normal indeed.
Looking into your eyes I know I'm right
If there's anything worth my love it's worth a fight
We only get one chance
But nothing ties our hands
You're what I want
Listen to me
Nothing I want
Is out of my reach
(I'M FREE)
HEAVEN HELPS THE MAN who fights his fear
Love's the only thing that keeps me here
You're the reason that I'm hanging on
My heart's staying where my heart belongs
(I'M FREE)
Running away will never make me free
And nothing we sign is any kind of guarantee
But I wanna hold you now
And I won't hold you down
I'm shaking the past
Making my breaks
Taking control
If that's what it takes