Buffy rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and suss out just how she had ended up in her living room on the sofa. She looked around the dimly lit room but couldn't see Angel. Or Spike. Spike. Was that real? Was he really there? Oh, it seemed so real. She sat up and listened. She could hear male voices coming from the kitchen.
"I had no idea," Spike told Angel regretfully.
"Yeah. Neither did I. When she called, she didn't let on anything. And then I saw her. And it... I knew it was bad before any of this happened," Angel said with sadness in his voice.
Spike rubbed his temples. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that staying away from her was a gift. He wanted her to be able to live her life, get married, have a bunch of little Slayers. Why hadn't that happened?
"You aren't going to leave her again, are you?" Angel asked, skeptical of Spike's true intentions.
Spike shook his head. No. Not leaving. Not after what he'd witnessed.
"She was saving you," Angel said quietly.
Spike looked at him through puzzled eyes.
"She told me that every night she saves you."
Spike recognized the sentiment as his own. He remembered the pain and the emptiness he felt when she had died. It nearly crippled him. If he hadn't had Dawn, it probably would have killed him. But she had nobody. Everyone had been saved. Everyone had moved on with their lives. And their lives didn't depend on her. All she had was agonizing memories of what might have been.
"Oh, God..."
They both heard her at the same time. Spike rushed to her side wanting to assure her that he was really there. That he would never leave.
"It's okay, kitten. Not going anywhere. Just like I promised," he soothed.
She buried her head in his chest and sobbed quietly.
"Never leave," she whispered through her tears.
"Never," he promised.
"Peaches," he called to Angel. "Why don't you make yourself useful and bring her some tea and something to eat. Some toast... or, what's that nasty cereal she likes? Apple Jacks. Let's get some food in her."
"No, no food. I'm good," she told him.
"I'll make some tea," Angel said, realizing their need to be alone.
"Buffy, what's happened to--"
She cut him off with a kiss. Just a quick, soft brush across his lips. But it sent shivers down his spine.
"You are real. Oh, God, Spike," she said breathlessly. "You're really here and I should be so mad at you for not telling me. How? How long?"
He felt ashamed. He'd unwittingly turned her into this frail, scared creature. A shadow of the Slayer she once was. And she might very well hate him when he told her just how long he'd been back.
"Right after," he said in a near-whisper. "I made Angel promise. He promised he'd never tell. But now I see it was a mistake. I should have-- "
"You're here now," she said. "That's all that matters. You're here now."
"You should be angry. Don't you want to... punch me in the nose?" he joked.
She was thoughtful. Yeah. She wanted to punch him in the nose. But she was too grateful that he was really there to push it. She grinned up at him, feeling truly happy for the first time in... over a year.
"Yes. But I want to not punch you in the nose even more. That's pretty significant, don't you think?"
Given their history, very. He looked at her as she curled up beside him on the sofa. Peaches was right. She wasn't well. But that was all going to change. He was going to make it his mission to stuff her full of cheeseburgers and make her go out in the sun. For him, she'd do it for him.
"Tell me about the Bit," he prompted.
She smiled. Dawn had done so well after the move to LA. She was actually acing most of her subjects in school. And she had a really nice boyfriend. Normal. She'd sent her application off to UCLA. She planned to major in ancient languages. Considering she was already fluent in Fyarl and Agathodemon, it wouldn't be hard.
"She's made me so proud," she told him. "So smart. So beautiful."
"She's like big sis, then," he smiled.
"And what's this I hear about you taking English Lit?"
She blushed as she smiled up at him.
"I'm smart now, you know."
"You've always been smart, kitten," he told her.
"No. I'm book-smart now," she corrected.
His Slayer. Book-smart. It was actually kind of cute. Something good had come of his absence.
"What's this about me telling you to do it?" he asked cautiously.
She shrugged her shoulders. He had told her. Long time before the opening of the Hellmouth. And she always remembered.
"You said something to the effect of," she paused and than tried to imitate him. "Bloody Hell, Slayer. Is it neccessary for you to butcher the English language the same way you butcher demons?"
He smiled at her bad impersonation. And at the memory. No, he'd never said to her "Go be a bloody English Lit major at UC SunnyDale." But she sussed out her own meaning from it.
"And you like this, then?" he asked, amazed.
"I recited Byron to Angel," she confessed with an impish grin. "I might as well have staked him by the shock and horror on his face."
"I heard that," Angel called from the kitchen.
"I had no idea," Spike told Angel regretfully.
"Yeah. Neither did I. When she called, she didn't let on anything. And then I saw her. And it... I knew it was bad before any of this happened," Angel said with sadness in his voice.
Spike rubbed his temples. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that staying away from her was a gift. He wanted her to be able to live her life, get married, have a bunch of little Slayers. Why hadn't that happened?
"You aren't going to leave her again, are you?" Angel asked, skeptical of Spike's true intentions.
Spike shook his head. No. Not leaving. Not after what he'd witnessed.
"She was saving you," Angel said quietly.
Spike looked at him through puzzled eyes.
"She told me that every night she saves you."
Spike recognized the sentiment as his own. He remembered the pain and the emptiness he felt when she had died. It nearly crippled him. If he hadn't had Dawn, it probably would have killed him. But she had nobody. Everyone had been saved. Everyone had moved on with their lives. And their lives didn't depend on her. All she had was agonizing memories of what might have been.
"Oh, God..."
They both heard her at the same time. Spike rushed to her side wanting to assure her that he was really there. That he would never leave.
"It's okay, kitten. Not going anywhere. Just like I promised," he soothed.
She buried her head in his chest and sobbed quietly.
"Never leave," she whispered through her tears.
"Never," he promised.
"Peaches," he called to Angel. "Why don't you make yourself useful and bring her some tea and something to eat. Some toast... or, what's that nasty cereal she likes? Apple Jacks. Let's get some food in her."
"No, no food. I'm good," she told him.
"I'll make some tea," Angel said, realizing their need to be alone.
"Buffy, what's happened to--"
She cut him off with a kiss. Just a quick, soft brush across his lips. But it sent shivers down his spine.
"You are real. Oh, God, Spike," she said breathlessly. "You're really here and I should be so mad at you for not telling me. How? How long?"
He felt ashamed. He'd unwittingly turned her into this frail, scared creature. A shadow of the Slayer she once was. And she might very well hate him when he told her just how long he'd been back.
"Right after," he said in a near-whisper. "I made Angel promise. He promised he'd never tell. But now I see it was a mistake. I should have-- "
"You're here now," she said. "That's all that matters. You're here now."
"You should be angry. Don't you want to... punch me in the nose?" he joked.
She was thoughtful. Yeah. She wanted to punch him in the nose. But she was too grateful that he was really there to push it. She grinned up at him, feeling truly happy for the first time in... over a year.
"Yes. But I want to not punch you in the nose even more. That's pretty significant, don't you think?"
Given their history, very. He looked at her as she curled up beside him on the sofa. Peaches was right. She wasn't well. But that was all going to change. He was going to make it his mission to stuff her full of cheeseburgers and make her go out in the sun. For him, she'd do it for him.
"Tell me about the Bit," he prompted.
She smiled. Dawn had done so well after the move to LA. She was actually acing most of her subjects in school. And she had a really nice boyfriend. Normal. She'd sent her application off to UCLA. She planned to major in ancient languages. Considering she was already fluent in Fyarl and Agathodemon, it wouldn't be hard.
"She's made me so proud," she told him. "So smart. So beautiful."
"She's like big sis, then," he smiled.
"And what's this I hear about you taking English Lit?"
She blushed as she smiled up at him.
"I'm smart now, you know."
"You've always been smart, kitten," he told her.
"No. I'm book-smart now," she corrected.
His Slayer. Book-smart. It was actually kind of cute. Something good had come of his absence.
"What's this about me telling you to do it?" he asked cautiously.
She shrugged her shoulders. He had told her. Long time before the opening of the Hellmouth. And she always remembered.
"You said something to the effect of," she paused and than tried to imitate him. "Bloody Hell, Slayer. Is it neccessary for you to butcher the English language the same way you butcher demons?"
He smiled at her bad impersonation. And at the memory. No, he'd never said to her "Go be a bloody English Lit major at UC SunnyDale." But she sussed out her own meaning from it.
"And you like this, then?" he asked, amazed.
"I recited Byron to Angel," she confessed with an impish grin. "I might as well have staked him by the shock and horror on his face."
"I heard that," Angel called from the kitchen.