Her Last One… Parade
Disclaimer: Not mine but I can still play with em. Joss said so.
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Thanksgiving morning…
Joyce had been in the kitchen cooking for quite a while when the basement door opened and Spike wandered through rubbing sleepy blue eyes. He paused for a moment listening with preternatural senses for evidence of the girls being awake. He could hear the television in the other room as the pre-parade show droned on. She watched him wake up with amusement shining in her eyes. She rummaged through the freezer for the packages of blood she'd hidden in there for him. He watched with heavy eyes while she bustled around heating it for his breakfast. He'd ended up next to the cupboard where the mugs were kept so she was forced to reach past him for one. A smirk crossed his face as he snaked his arm around her waist and pressed a quick kiss onto her willing mouth.
Joyce melted into his strong embrace for a second before pulling away regretfully. "Good morning." She whispered.
"Morning, Luv." His husky voice sent shivers down her back.
"I was going to let you sleep a little while longer." She told him as she checked the blood to make sure it was warm enough.
"Got a creak in your floor and somebody kept walking on it." He teased as she poured his breakfast into the mug before handing it to him.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Joyce exclaimed, horrified she'd disturbed him.
"It's okay, Pet. I'm just teasing. I don't need much sleep. You know that." Spike soothed her.
"Keep that up, Mister, and I won't tell you where your clean clothes are." She threatened.
She grinned when the Big Bad perked right up at the mention of clean clothes. "You washed my clothes?" He frowned and looked down at the t-shirt and black jeans he was wearing. "Wait a sec. What clothes?"
"The clothes you left here before. When you and Buffy killed that extra slimy whatever that was and you took a shower. Remember? I made Xander go get you some replacement clothes." She turned her attention back to the dish she was preparing.
Spike grinned as he remembered the night in question. The fight had been fun but the mess the demon had made had been slimy and smelly. "You're right. I did leave them here. I thought you'd throw them away." He watched her for a few minutes. "What are you making?"
"A surprise for you and Rupert, blood sausage." She winked at him.
His jaw dropped and he gaped at her. "You. Are. A. Goddess." He whispered in awe.
"So I've heard." She said with satisfaction that she'd succeeded in surprising him. "Now, why don't you go take a shower and put on your clean clothes?"
"Because your stake-happy daughter will cause me to become mud on your shower floor?" Spike moved over to the sink and rinsed out his mug.
Joyce huffed a little in exasperation, wondering if her daughter would ever learn to get along with Spike. "Use my shower. Just make sure you lock the door to my room and the bathroom door. She won't check in there and when she comes down I'll just keep her here. Your clothes are on the chair just inside my closet."
A wicked gleam lit Spike's sapphire eyes. "Why, Joyce." He purred. "Keeping my clothes in your closet? What a naughty little minx you are."
An answering gleam appeared in her hazel eyes. She shifted to stand in front of him and walked her fingers up his chest until she could run her forefinger along his full lower lip. "And don't you forget it, Buster." She told him using her most seductive tone.
A low growl rumbled in his chest causing her to laugh in delight. "Go get cleaned up or I'll make you help me cook."
"Going now." He escaped. Dawn looked up from her spot on the sofa as he breezed through. She paused in her inhalation of cereal to wave a milk covered spoon his direction.
"Hi, Spike!" She chirped.
"Hey, Bit. Your mum wants me to go clean up. I'll be back in time to watch the parade with you, ok?" He finished his greeting as he reached the halfway point of the stairs.
"Ok." The youngest Summers grinned happily. The day was definitely looking up.
Upstairs, Spike was immensely relieved to get into Joyce's room with the door securely locked. He moved without hesitation to her closet and stopped for a moment with his eyes closed just inhaling her scent. His clothes were right where she'd told him they'd be but he left them there, not wanting the steam from the shower to make them damp. Besides, he mused, it would give him an excuse to sit in her closet a while longer. He found it comforting in there.
A few minutes later, Buffy cocked her head as she paused outside her mother's locked bedroom door. The shower was running but Buffy was sure she'd heard her mom go down a lot earlier. She shrugged and went downstairs hoping for coffee. Dawn was on the sofa shoveling cereal into her mouth as she waited for the Macy's parade to start.
The Slayer was startled to see her mom sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee and turning the pages of a newspaper. Joyce had gotten to a point in her cooking that she could take a short break before continuing with her preparations. She looked up as her eldest walked into the room.
"Mom! I thought you were upstairs. Did you know your shower is running?" Buffy collected a coffee cup and filled it. She grabbed cream from the refrigerator, her eyes widening when she saw the amount of food already prepared on the shelves.
"Buffy, sit down." Joyce said quietly but firmly. "We need to talk."
"Those words never precede anything good." Buffy groaned as she sat.
Joyce smiled sadly. "I know. But we need to clear this up before you do something that would make me terribly unhappy. I don't know what is wrong with me. It could be nothing but it could be serious so I want this to be a Thanksgiving to remember."
Buffy shook her head in denial. "You're going to be just fine." She insisted.
"I hope so. But, still, I want this day to be free of hostility. I invited Spike to join us. This is my day and my dinner and I want him here. He is my friend. I don't want you or anyone else threatening him. Please do this for me, Buffy." Joyce pleaded shamelessly.
"But, Mom." The Slayer whined. "He's a vampire."
"A vampire who can't hurt you or anyone else. But more than that, he's my friend and I want him here. He's agreed to play nice for the day and I want you to do the same. I'm holding you responsible for the others. They are not to harm him or pick a fight with him. Is that clear?" Joyce was gentle but resolute.
Buffy's lower lip stuck out in a pout. "Fine. But that doesn't tell me why your shower is running."
The older woman studied her newspaper. "I sent Spike up there to clean up. He'd left some clothes here so I thought he'd appreciate a hot shower."
Buffy's green eyes glinted dangerously. "Just when did he leave clothes here?"
"The night the two of you came back all slimy and I had Xander get him some replacements." Joyce reminded her sternly.
The younger woman wilted a little. "Oh. I thought you threw those clothes away."
"I don't know how much Spike owns but I don't think he can afford to continually replace his clothes so I washed them. I have to say that it was interesting. Demon slime takes a while to get out." She saw the question forming. "No, I will not do your laundry. Wash out your own demon slime."
Buffy huffed. "Fine, then. I'll go talk to the others and make sure they know not to start anything. I want to see what Giles found out about that thingy we were fighting last night. What time is dinner?"
"I plan to serve it at three. I want everyone here by two-thirty." Joyce smiled at her daughter. "Thank you, Honey."
Buffy sighed. "Anything for you, Mom." She finished her coffee and left to warn her friends they would be dining with the enemy.
Later…
"You do know that those balloons are huge, right Bit?" Spike pointed to the Garfield balloon as it floated across the screen.
"Yeah, kinda got that." She snarked. "Oh look! What a cool float!"
"They start planning for the next year's float as soon as the parade is over. They barely take a day off before the planning starts for the next parade." Spike informed her.
"How do you know?" Dawn wanted to know.
"Well, New York is a great place for vampires this time of year. Most days it's cloudy. Makes it safe to be outside. Dru got it in her head to go watch the parade when we were there a while back." Spike pointed at the balloon bouncing across the screen. "Look at that, they had that one when we were there."
"Cool!" She bounced a little. "Tell me more."
Spike grinned in real pleasure at her interest. "It was snowing that year, not sunny like this one. We got there early enough to be right up front. Even got to talk to some of the folks running the show. Dru was a bit disappointed that the critters on the floats were made of flowers and such. But it didn't stop her from oooing and awing over the things." He paused to listen to the marching band now on the screen. "The bands are better nowadays."
"Did you eat anyone while you were watching the parade?" Dawn was ignoring the television in favor of trying to dig out gory details.
"No, and stop asking questions like that while your mum is in the next room." The sparkle in his eyes belied the stern tone. "And can that band get any worse?" He grimaced at the new marching band that had followed the other one.
"They'll be gone in a second. That's a pretty float." Dawn directed his attention to the confection of pink and white that was crowding the awful band.
"If you like that sort of thing. The driver's in a bit of a rush, though. Look at the front, practically mowing down the band there. Not that they don't deserve it." Spike chuckled.
They looked up as Joyce joined them and handed Spike a cup of coffee, sipping her own as she sat next to him. Now the vampire was ensconced between his favorite ladies and damned happy about it.
"Time for a break then, Pet?" He raised his cup slightly in thanks as she settled in to watch the rest of the parade.
She nodded as warmth spread through her at the underlying concern in his voice. "Yes, I have at least an hour that I don't have to do anything."
"You should take a nap." Spike's blue eyes scanned her for signs of weariness.
She smiled. "I'm fine. I want to watch the parade. Did I hear you say you and Drusilla saw it in person one year?"
Buffy, Riley, Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya came in just as the parade was finishing. Dawn and Joyce were wiping away tears of laughter at the scathingly funny comments Spike had made about the floats, balloons and bands. They had made him compare the parade being shown on television against the one he'd seen in person. He'd told them all about his and Dru's trip to New York and their adventures while they watched the parade. He deliberately left out the slayer he'd killed while they'd been in the city. His description of how cold he'd been standing in the heavy snowfall had caused them both to cuddle up to him as if trying to warm him retroactively. He'd gotten nostalgic when he told them how entranced his dark princess had been when Santa Claus had floated by.
Xander glared at the television. "Oh man! We missed the parade. Have I mentioned lately that I hate research? And why is it that Fangless got to hang out here and not have to do book duty like the rest of us?" He complained loudly.
"Rule number one, you will not call Spike names. Rule number two, you will not start a fight with him for any reason. Rule number three, there will be no discussion of anything demonic until after dinner. The other rules will be announced as they come up." Joyce informed them as she stood up and collected the cups she and Spike had been using. Dawn got up with her cereal box and bowl to take them into the kitchen before going upstairs to her room to play music until dinner.
Spike smirked at the Scoobies as he got up to follow his girls into the kitchen. "Joyce, can I help with anything?" They heard him asking as the threesome left the room.
"What's the deal?" Xander asked. "Is your mom under a vamp thrall or something? And why can't we stake him again?"
"No, no thrall. She just likes Spike. I don't have a clue why." Buffy lowered her voice. "She's afraid this will be her last Thanksgiving and she wants to make it special. So let's all give her that. Ok?"
In the kitchen, Spike stilled as his vampiric hearing picked up Buffy's statement. His eyes flew to Joyce as she washed up some of the dishes she'd put in the sink as she prepared the food she planned to serve. She had put him to work drying while she washed and now his fingers tightened on the towel he held ready for the next dish.
Joyce failed to notice her companion's sudden tension. "Dinner won't be for a couple more hours. Why don't you slip up to my room and take a nap?" She suggested, still feeling a bit guilty over disturbing his sleep with her creaking floor. She held up a bowl for him to dry and frowned when he didn't take it right away. She glanced over at him, puzzled.
Spike stood staring at her, his eyes were wide and shocked. His face was paler than normal. His mind replayed Buffy's words over and over 'She's afraid this will be her last Thanksgiving' until it echoed and it was all he could hear. He saw Joyce's lips moving but the Slayer's voice drowned her out. With an effort, he pulled himself out of the fugue he'd fallen into.
"Um, Luv, I think I'll take that… ah… yeah…right… should take a nap." His low voice shook and his fingers trembled as he handed her the towel. Bewildered, she accepted the cloth. She watched, speechless, as he turned and fled from the room, using vampiric speed. Seconds later she heard the door to her room slam shut.
Buffy burst into the kitchen while the slam was still echoing through the house. "Was that Spike flying up the stairs?" She demanded.
The rest of the Scoobies followed before Joyce could form an answer.
"Hey, why did F-ah, Spike just run up the stairs like a bat out of hell?" Xander barely avoided calling Spike his usual derogatory nickname.
"Do you want me to go up and make sure he's not messing with your stuff?" Riley asked, fingering the stake in his pocket.
Joyce carefully scrubbed the pan she held in her hand. "No, leave him alone. I told him that dinner wouldn't be for a couple more hours and suggested he go upstairs to take a nap. Apparently there's a creaky floorboard in here and he can hear it in the basement." Her voice was studiously steady. Her thoughts were racing over the reasons why he'd looked so shocked. She couldn't come up with the explanation.
"And we know this how?" Buffy asked suspiciously.
"Because he spent last night in the basement and I woke him up this morning walking around. Buffy, drop it. Please?" Joyce kept her attention strictly on her task.
"Mrs. Summers? What's wrong?" Tara asked softly. She could see the enormous stress the older woman was under but couldn't figure out why.
"I'm just a little tired." Joyce lied. She was a lot tired and very worried over what could have caused Spike to run out like that.
"Too bad you had Spike go up to your room. We could have finished dinner while you rested." Willow frowned, then she brightened. "You could use Buffy's room. We can do this. We did it last year."
A knock on the back door startled them all. Anya was closest so she opened it to let Giles in. "Good afternoon, everyone. There was no answer at the front door so I came back around here." He held up two bottles of wine. "I hope I'm not too early."
"No, no. You're fine." Joyce assured him. She scrubbed a handful of silverware, strictly focused on each piece.
The Watcher frowned at her distracted manner. "Joyce? Are you all right?"
"She's tired and we're trying to get her to go up to Buffy's room to take a nap because she gave her room to Spike to make up for waking him up this morning walking on a creaky floor." Anya informed him candidly.
Giles blinked at her while he tried to process the information. "Yes, of course. By all means, go up and rest. We'll finish the dinner. I'm sure you have everything under control." He decided to question the children as soon as she was safely upstairs. His main concern was why she looked so fragile.
With a jerky nod, Joyce dried her hands and left the room.
After he left the kitchen, Spike flew up the stairs, anxious to get to a private room before he lost it completely. He'd been holding onto the belief that the doctors with all of their medical advances would cure Joyce in no time. Buffy's statement had shattered that hope. He felt betrayed that Joyce hadn't told him of her fears. He forgot for a moment that she hadn't had the opportunity to tell him. He slammed the bedroom door, forgetting to lock it, and dashed into the comforting gloom of the closet. He leaned against the closed door and slid down the panel. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he shook uncontrollably. He rested his forehead against his knees and gulped deep unneeded breaths. Within seconds he lost his fight for control and the tears he'd refused to shed the night before began sliding down his lean face. Aware of the others in the house, he attempted to keep his misery soundless, biting his lip until he drew blood and shuddering in his efforts to hold in his sobs.
Silently, Joyce opened the door to her room, shut it carefully and locked it. She was shaken when her room appeared to be empty but some sixth sense told her Spike was near. She moved carefully to the bathroom. He wasn't there either. The connecting door to her walk-in closet stood ajar and she glided over to the opening. She pulled the door completely open and peeked inside. Her heart clenched when she spotted the shivering, huddled ball of despair that was her vampire. She walked in and cautiously placed her hand on his head. He stilled at her touch. She crouched down in front of him and slid her hand from the top of his head to the side of his face. He pulled away from her grasp and glared at her. She gasped at the blood dripping off his chin and the tears sliding down his cheeks.
She withdrew into the bathroom and got a damp washcloth. She returned quickly and attempted to wash the blood and tears from his lean, pale face. He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her efforts.
"What happened?" She asked quietly.
His breath hitched. He looked at her, hostility radiating from his tear-filled eyes. He began to speak but couldn't seem to form the words. She sat down fully and tried to pull him into her arms. He resisted, pulling away and huddling against the door, irate misery in every line of his thin body. She sat back and crossed her arms, suddenly defensive in the face of his anger.
"What happened?" She repeated, her tone demanding that he answer.
"Slayer said that…" He stopped as he began to shake again. He wiped angrily at a stray tear sliding down his pale cheek.
Tears of her own escaping, she tentatively stretched out her hand and caressed the back of his neck. "What did Buffy say?"
"That you thought this would be your last T-thanksgiving." He shook his head as anger made him stutter. "You d-didn't tell m-me." He spat out the accusation.
Joyce crept closer as his words sank in. She held her arms out and he finally moved into them, burying his face in her neck and shuddering in relief. "Oh, Sweetie, I'm sorry. We don't know yet if there is anything wrong. But I wanted to make this a special day just in case. I wanted to give everyone a good memory. I should have said something last night, but I've sort of been in denial. I'm so sorry."
"It's ok." He whispered. He pulled back a little and swiped at the moisture on his face. He kept his head lowered, embarrassed about his breakdown, anger forgotten in light of her remorse. A thought struck him and he looked up. "Pet? Do they know you're in here with me?"
She shook her head. "They think I'm napping in Buffy's room. I think we both could use that nap, can we go lay down on the bed? Much more comfortable." Joyce suggested.
He nodded but then tensed. "What about when they come up to wake you?"
"I'll set the alarm for fifteen minutes before three. That way we'll be back downstairs before they have a chance to come up." She stood up and grasped his hands. He let her pull him up and she led him to the bed. Within a few short minutes the alarm was set and she had them arranged comfortably on the queen-sized expanse. He snuggled up behind her, spooning her back to his chest. He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist. She sighed with pleasure as his cool lips caressed the nape of her neck. She let her eyes drift closed as her weariness caught up to her.
Exhausted from his emotional roller-coaster, he felt sleep tugging at him. "Do you know how much I love you?" He whispered, thinking she was already asleep.
A tiny smile curved her mouth. "Almost as much as I love you." She sighed as she succumbed to her own fatigue.
TBC