Morning slips in on the second night spent by her side, and the idea of leaving her to wake up alone to it leaves him cold.
Colder than usual, at least.
After everything she's been through, she doesn't deserve to wake up alone ever again...
He'd dozed a little since she'd awoke in the night, but the potential rejection hurtling towards him with the approaching sunlight is now stopping sleep completely.
She wanted him to stay. But what did that mean for her? Stay for how long? And where?
He watches a pale dawn start to creep around the edges of the curtains, debating with himself on whether or not he should wake her, when she stirs next to him.
She's still half asleep. He could let her sink back underneath it but the questions need answers.
"Buffy?" He whispers, brushing her face with the thumb of a cupped hand, savouring the moment she leans slightly into it. "Should I go? It's getting too light out to ignore."
Buffy's sleepy eyes blink slowly a couple of times. She rubs an eye with the heal of her hand, shifting a little so she's not lying so directly on top him, skooching down against his chest instead. "I don't know. I sort of want you to stay."
His throat feels tight.
"Stay where, luv?"
"Here."
"What, just locked up in your pretty little bedroom all day?"
"Mmhm." She smiles, still a little sleep drunk. "I'll keep you hostage. Pretty sure I've still got your shackles somewhere. You have to admit my cozy bed is better than a bathtub..."
He swallows a sudden lump in his throat.
Ever a surprise, this girl... think I'd have my hands full pleasing her. Bet I could though... if she'd ever have me I bet I could keep that glint in her eye going...
"And if Dawn decides to wonder in and borrow your sodding lipgloss? You don't think she'll jump to some very specific conclusions?"
"What kind of conclusions would those be?" Buffy asks raising an eyebrow.
"The kind teenagers invariably start mulling over around her age, Slayer. Let's not play at being naive."
Buffy sighs, rolling on to her back.
She wants him to stay. But she doesn't want to have to explain his presence in her house to the rest of the household. The temptation to ignore what will, at the very least, be an incredibly weird and judgemental conversation with the gang is staggering. She can't tell them what she needs from Spike. Not right now. Not with so many secrets and half truths between herself and them already piling up.
I used to be more honest with them, didn't I?
When did that stop? When I came back?
No, it had been going on longer. Something had changed, somewhere down the line, and it was getting harder to pinpoint where exactly...
And now they needed her to be something she couldn't be so desperately. They needed her happy, and thankful, and present. Her old self as if nothing had changed. As if nothing in her had died.
Judgement over her lack of enthusiasm flavoured every interaction with bitterness. On both sides.
It was hell. All of it was. And the only respite, bizarre as it was, was here.
With him.
He's the only one I can stand to be around...
I just want to stay here and sleep. Just sleep and not deal with anything.
And not really be part of anything past my bedroom door for one day.
Her hand rests above the covers. She's so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumps when his hand slips unobtrusively over hers. Despite his accelerated healing almost being a match for hers the gashes over his knuckles still look raw. Fresh.
There's a knock at her bedroom door and they both freeze.
"Buffy?" Willow's voice comes in somewhat softly from the other side and Spike manages to duck and wriggle down underneath the bed covers just before the door opens, pulling in close to her so his silhouette isn't so obvious in the outline of the duvet.
Buffy blinks hoping the guilty blush burning it's way over her cheeks just reads as interrupted sleep.
"Yeah, Will? Everything alright?"
"I heard you mumbling." Will explains, closing the door behind her, obviously intending to stay for a moment or two. "Thought you might be having a bad dream."
Buffy stops herself from glancing down at the lump in the bed, and carefully shifts up against the pillows. The movement brings Spike's head in contact with her lap and she feels her heart lurch, panicked he'll pull back and move underneath the covers but he stays still against her.
"Uh... just... normal dreaming." She smiles, making an effort to push normalcy into her voice. It's totally fine that Will is there. In her room, whilst Spike hides under the sheets next to her hip.
This isn't something to freak out about whatsoever.
"You sure?" Willow asks, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "Just normal dreams?"
Underneath the covers Spike starts feel dizzy. The lack of air doesn't register with him in the slightest, but the proximity and the scent of Buffy has got him nearly ready to pass out. His left arm is pinned underneath her and as she shifts up into the pillows it splays against her lower back, dangerously near the waistband of her shorts. He'd tried to position himself at an angle not to give her away, but once she'd sat up it had brought his head in contact with her thighs, lying against her with his cheek tucked against the curve of her hip.
"Yup. Total, non Slayer-dream-having, nightmare-free mumbling. All good." Buffy answers.
He takes a breath, trying to calm himself, trying to regain some control of the thoughts speeding through his mind like lightning but when he releases the air over her bare legs her muscles shiver and dance. An unintended reflex brings the skin of her thigh in contact with his cheek.
"Well, that's good." Willow beams a little. "The sleep charm helped?"
"Uh huh." Buffy lies. Her hand snakes down to his head and wraps around his lips to stop his desperate breaths from tickling her skin. He swallows, and the feeling flutters over her hip where his neck is taut against her.
"That's great! I'll make you another, they're sort of a one shot deal."
Fantastic. Buffy thinks sarcastically but nods bravely. "That'd be awesome."
Willow tucks her feet up onto the end of the bed and Buffy squashes the sudden tension in her shoulders at the thought that Will might climb right up onto the covers and end up sitting on Spike.
"Me and Tara are taking Dawn school supplies shopping when she's up. You coming with? Big, shopping spree at the stationary store? Probably milkshakes afterwards?"
"Uh..." Buffy's mind stammers as Willow's knee nearly connects with the lump under the duvet that she doesn't realise is Spike's leg.
"...Or would you rather catch up on sleep? Me and Tara can take Dawn-duty no problem? Can set you up with another charm before we go."
Buffy blinks.
A whole day.
To herself.
Not entirely to myself. She feels Spike blink against her skin, his eyelashes fluttering against the bare skin of her side.
"That... would be amazing actually." She tries to sound tired, not eager. Not desperate for it. Cool either way. No biggy.
"I'm on it." Will says, smiling. She scoots off the bed, heading for the door. Buffy waits for the catch to click and for Willow's footsteps to disappear down the hall before taking her hand away from Spike's mouth.
Before he unfolds himself from the covers she wriggles down next to him, meeting his eyes in the dark. They've turned into enormous black pools.
"That was close." She whispers. He doesn't move, seemingly frozen next to her. After a couple of breaths he nods, hoping she doesn't notice the ache in his eyes at having to hide.
"At least Willow knocks." He tries to make his voice mock acerbic, but as they're whispering it his tone shoots wide and lands on lovestruck. "Can't count the amount of times you've burst in on me, pet."
Buffy flushes, her eyes close in embarrassment, thinking he's making a jibe about the last couple of days. She feels keenly in herself that she's being a burden to him this time. Pre-death Buffy could happily kick Spike about until the sun came up. But a new vulnerability has settled between them, eggshell delicate and new. Too easily trespassed against.
"Spike… about yesterday…"
His brow furrows, not gleaning the reason for her sudden drop in demeanour.
"Yesterday?"
"In your crypt- I didn't mean to..." she trails off weakly, unsure if she should apologise or not.
He blinks, the useless air clamped shut in his throat.
But it was just a dream…
The realisation that it wasn't makes his head spin. He kissed her. And she let him.
He'd actually kissed her, and she'd kissed him back...
"I-Buffy, I-" footsteps down the hall stopper his words, jaw clenching in aggravation at the thought this moment may not repeat itself naturally, words still unsaid between them. "Willow's coming back."
Buffy pulls away from him, sitting back up against the pillows. He doesn't move in at first, head still tumbling about trying to find purchase on the new revelation. She reaches down and nudges his shoulder.
"Move closer, she'll see the lump." She hisses.
He scowls up at her.
"You know, I've been called nicer things in my time."
"I've called you worse." She whispers as the door reopens.
"One shot of mega sleep, order up!" Willow beams.
Buffy keeps her face carefully frozen in place, reigning back the need to gag from the earthy smell that seems to permeate the room instantly. She can almost see the scent trail of it crossing her room like something out of a cartoon. She stretches out a hand to take the pouch but Willow shakes her head, moving to the pillows.
"I got it," she tucks the pouch underneath Buffy's pillow. "Get some sleep. We'll bring you back some donuts."
Buffy smiles weakly, the smell is already starting to fill the room. Filling her head too, like a dizzying fog.
"Thanks Will. Night."
Willow smiles, looking proud of herself, "sweet dreams."
As soon as the door clicks shut Buffy retches over the side of the bed. There's blessedly no food in her stomach to fight against and her gagging turns into a desperate coughing.
Cool fingers move her hair away from her face, then a gentle pull at her shoulder. She lets Spike settle her back down on the bed, taking deep gulping breaths, but the stench of turned soil and rotting earth accompanies each lungful.
His hand slides up by her head as he leans over her. Buffy freezes, caged in by his arms, certain he's going to lean further in, holding her breath as he shifts over her, until he tugs the pouch out from under the pillow.
He slides out of the bed to the window, opening it carefully so that his arm stays in the shadow of the curtain, and drops the small bundle down into the garden.
She lets go of a shaky sigh, catching her breath, from the coughing fit and the brief couple of seconds of his body over hers.
"Shit." Spike hisses, a sliver of daylight having scorched the tips of his fingers. He sucks at the skin, soothing the burn.
"You ok?" Buffy whispers, concern flooding her face.
Spoke raises an amused eyebrow.
"M'fine." He chuckles.
Buffy's brow creases. "What's funny?"
"...How things change I guess." He rubs his thumb gingerly over the tips of his fingers, testing the blisters already fading. "Got the Slayer Almighty worrying over my singed fingertips. Not too long ago a hell God nearly turned me inside out and you didn't bat an eyelid."
"I batted more than an eyelid!"
Her tone is lightly chiding but it stills him anyway. Since she'd asked him to stay he'd made a deliberate effort to put that kiss, their first real kiss, out of his head. It was easier to dwell on the insanity of the torture he'd endured than that moment. It cut in a deeper, more painful way.
This... all this is definitely making it worse. I thought the grief was bad but I'm just walking around with a different kind now.
He pushes down a thumb onto the blisters on his fingers. A little bit of pain on the outside to distract from the overwhelming pain on the inside.
"Spike."
He snaps out of his inner turmoil, realizing he'd been staring at his fingertips for several minutes. There's a look in her eyes that he's only seen a handful of times. Gratitude.
"I really didn't forget. What you did for Dawn." She casts her eyes down, finding the eye contact too difficult. "What you kept doing."
He shrugs, clinging to nonchalance desperately as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "...Said I would."
"I didn't expect you to." She smiles. "I mean sure preventing apocalyptic end of the world nightmare stuff, that's just another day at the office. Book reports and babysitting a teenager though? That's like it's own hell dimension."
He can't help but laugh. "Sure, Glory could've learnt a thing or two about torture if she had to listen to the Bit's taste in music. Skooch up."
Buffy makes room again for him and he lies down on his side, one hand tucked underneath his head. She settles down on her own pillow. Her nose wrinkles in disgust.
"Ugh, I can still smell that charm pouch." She hurls her pillow to the other side of the room, sighing. She stays sitting, resting her elbows on her knees, rubbing her eyes.
"You know, you could just be honest with the witch. With all of them. You need a bit of time to get back to normal, luv."
Buffy bites her lip, rubbing the knuckle of her hand into her eye to get rid of the sleep in the corners and stem the prickle of tears.
"I don't think there's going to be a normal again."
He says nothing, and she looks back behind her into his eyes, expecting to see pity. But it's not there and she's endlessly grateful it isn't. The pitying looks from everyone have started to taste disgustingly sour and she's exhausted from reassuring them all.
"Is that what you think?" He murmurs, fingers of his hand stroking softly up her spine. "That you'll feel like this forever?"
Maybe for anyone else the implication would be that she was being melodramatic. She can hear though the optimism underneath his words and it's strangely comforting. Not condescending, just knowing. Understanding pain and how it can lessen if she's a little gentler on herself. That she can live if she holds on a little longer. She takes a breath.
"I dunno. I'm not really a thinky thought having person right now. I'm just doing the meeting needs thing. You know; sleep, eat, repeat."
Spike casts a long look over her figure. Underneath the cotton of her tank top he can see a shadow of ribs. Under his fingers he's sure the vertebrae of her spine are more prominent than before.
"...Are you eating?"
"...Ok. Sleep repeat. And the sleeping not so much without you... so just the repeat bit."
"You should eat something. When did you last? Properly, not just pretending for the gang?"
Buffy's eyebrows furrow. She can't remember telling him about pretending to eat, and hiding the food in the trash. She supposes though, considering her gaunt appearance and the way her clothes have been hanging off her lately, that it doesn't take a genius to work it out.
Although the rest of them certainly don't seem to be noticing... Or maybe they're pretending they don't see it.
"Real food wise I guess... 150 days." She sees him wince and feels guilty for being glib. She didn't mean to make light of the fact he'd kept count of the days she'd been gone, but it's the truth. The measly couple of pizza slices from the night before had tasted like dirt but she'd chewed it down and kept it in her stomach through willpower alone. It certainly hadn't felt like a meal. Not restorative in any way shape or form. "Maybe longer actually. Don't think I really ate properly after the funeral."
He sits up next to her. His hand is still on her back, the thumb rubbing over a bump in her spine.
"Well, if I can keep Little Bit alive for this long I must be doing something right. Think if I made you something you could try and stomach it? No pressure, whatever you can keep down?"
Buffy swallows, taking a moment to come to terms with the thought of eating real food again. "Ok. Can we do the sleep bit again first though?"
He nods, pulling her gently down with him so her head pillows on his chest.
"Whatever you need, Pet." You only need to ask...
Willow closes the door to her bedroom again, climbing back into bed next to Tara. She's sleeping on her side, soft blonde hair pooling on the pillow, and Willow shifts closes into her, winding her arms around her middle. Tara stirs, finding Willow's hand and pulling her in tighter until she's spooned flushed against her.
"Everything alright, sweetie?" She mumbles, still half asleep.
Willow sighs, and the sigh tickles the back of Tara's neck, making her turn her head so she can catch Willow's eye in her peripheral vision.
"I'm really worried about Buffy."
Tara nods, holding Willow's hand tighter under the covers.
"She'll be alright. It's just got to take time."
"She's talking to herself."
"That's fairly normal. She's gone through hell and back, quite literally. She's probably just working some stuff out in her subconscious."
"...I could fix it."
Tara stills, and Willow can feel the tension seeping off her. Eventually she rolls over to face Willow, but she holds her ground. "I could. I could just... I could fix it. One little memory spell-"
"Willow."
"-and poof you know, no more hell-"
"Will."
"-but wouldn't that be better? Why can't I help, I can fix it-"
"Enough!" Tara's normally quiet and mild demeanour vanishes briefly, a fierce look suffusing her gentle features. "You can't go messing about in peoples heads. You don't know what you would end up doing, you could damage something permanently-"
"I bought her back from the dead! I can deal with a couple of months of bad memories."
"And how would you explain it to her? What lie would you have to conjure up to explain the months long black hole in her head?"
"But she's in pain-"
"And it's her pain, Will. You don't get to be the one to decide to take it away from her. She needs to deal with it-"
"But-"
"No, no buts. If she wants you to help she will ask. Until then just be there. Like a normal friend would be." Willow refuses to look Tara in the eye, stung by the lack of support.
I could fix it. It would be so easy to do...
"Will." Tara's eyes are full to the brim with determination. "Promise you won't use magic on her. You have to let things run their course here."
Willow nods, albeit not enthusiastically, struggling to keep the sulk from her face. But Tara refuses to let the matter lie.
"Promise me."
"Alright, I promise." She snaps. Tara casts another look at her, pinning her in place with her stare before rolling back over on to her side of the bed.
An hour passed just lying next to her but he knows she's not sleeping. The deep soft sighing breathing that's been his indicator of a sleeping Buffy doesn't come. He strokes her back soothingly and though she leans into his hand more, her eyes remains half open.
"Can't sleep?"
She shakes her head, causing her hair to tickle his neck.
"Want me to sneak down and get you something to eat?"
"No, just stay here. Until they're gone."
She re-adjusts so her head is resting on his arm and he wraps it across her shoulder.
"You want to play a game, Slayer?"
There's a momentary heartbeat before she lifts her head off his shoulder, cocking a sly eyebrow. "What kind of game are we talking about here?"
Willow waits for Tara to drop back to sleep before moving out of the bed towards the table of herbs she keeps in the bedroom. Dried flowers in heaped in jars litter the table. Rosemary. Pressed lilies. Half a bag of Hazel Moss. She reached back to a jar by the wall. Lethe's Bramble.
On the opposite end, in a heavy wooden box, she pulls out a clear quartz crystal point from the hoard.
Tara stirs at the clack of the box closing shut and Willow freezes until the light sighs of a sleeping Tara resume.
She tucks the pressed flower into the pocket of her robe. And the crystal into the other, careful not to let them touch. Tonight will be best. When she's asleep from the charm pouch. It'll take a bit longer than the usual one word incantation and she needs the time. A deeply sleeping Buffy that won't fight back-
She winces at the thought of it. Fight back is the wrong word, just... more like not cooperate. It'll be fine on the other side! She just needs people to listen.
After tonight it'll be fine. It'll all go back normal. They'll see. She can fix it.
She can.
"Alright, ready." Spike murmurs.
They keep their voices hushed, barely speaking above a whisper.
"You sure?"
"Yep."
"Seriously, you can take a bit longer if you want."
"Shut up."
"Only because, you know, you seem to be really struggling."
"I said ready. Just get on with it, you infuriating woman."
"Fine, sheesh..." Buffy rolls her eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"
"Vegetable."
"Is it Harmony?"
"Ooh you bitch. That counts." Buffy chuckles.
"Can you eat it?"
"Yes."
"...It's not that stupid flowering onion you keep going on about, is it?"
"For fucks sake."
Buffy laughs, actually laughs.
"What is that, 5-1?"
"Dont gloat." Gloat all you like, darling. Just keep laughing like that. We could stay in here forever... just keep laughing like that.
"I'm just saying. Amateur hour." A pillow snacks her hard round the head. She yanks it out of his hand, flinging it back into his face with a quiet crow of triumph.
"You absolutely suck at this. Your turn."
"You got one?" He asks, snatching the pillow back from her hard, stuffing it back behind him.
"Yup."
"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"
"Animal."
"Demon?"
"Oh... aw crap you might actually get this one."
"Something I've fought then."
"Is that a question?"
"No. Something you've fought?"
"Yes."
"...Something you've killed?"
"No."
"Oh well, now that does narrow it down. It's not me, is it?"
"Are you an animal?" She stumbles, flushes hard at the mocking eyebrow and pursed smirk. "Please can we pretend I didn't say that."
"No, I think I'm gonna bring that up later. Things you've fought but not killed then... Vampire?"
"No." Buffy sighs. 15 questions left.
"Oh, is it a Fyarl demon?"
"Damn, yes! How did you know I didn't kill it?"
"Well for one, Giles is still walking around. I was his getaway driver. Tight git still owes me 300 bob."
Footsteps on the landing cut him off. Tara and Willow mumbling quietly, joined by Dawn clomping down the stairs behind them. A few minutes later the front door shuts, and the oppressive need for silence lifts.
Buffy lets out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding. Calm settling down over her for what seems like an eternity, unwinding the tight knot of tension that had keeping its death-grip on her for days.
Finally, the house to herself.
Ourselves... she mentally corrected, as a cool hand entwined with hers.