Chapter 28 – Glasgow, 6 July 2004
From when Buffy disappeared from view, climbing out of the tunnel, the next thing I knew was that I was feeling better than I had any right to. The pain was still more real than I like, but I was in a bed, and someone had bandaged me up and even set some broken bones. It was done right, too. You don't live for a century spent getting into scrapes on a regular basis without knowing when a bone's been set right. 'Course, I knew who was responsible. Her voice was the first one I heard as I drifted back to consciousness. She wasn't alone, though – Moira and Dawn were there too, and once they knew I was back with them, there wasn't any real alternative to swapping stories.
That, and drinking a bag or two of blood left me feeling pretty tired again, and the next few hours were spent drifting in and out of sleep. The one consistent thing during those hours was Buffy's presence. That warmed me more than it had any reason to - just the fact that she cared enough to put me back together again. And no, it wasn't the first time. After she rescued me from The First she tended my injuries, but that occasion feels like an aberration compared with the rest of the time we shared. Sometimes, the moments during that last year, when she showed signs of gentleness or caring or need – they seem unreal.
One advantage of not needing to breathe is that it's easier to maintain the fiction of being asleep. And right now, that feeling of being cared for is so … perfect, that I don't want reality to impinge on it at all. And I'm soft; I know it.
Of course, having my ears open has another advantage. When Moira comes in to tell her that Giles is about to phone, and Buffy goes into another room to take the call, it's obvious she's under the impression that I won't hear her. I tense as she takes the call, knowing full well that Giles is going to be furious, and believing that, despite the time and attention I've had this evening, she's going to listen to him.
My amazement grows with every minute. Obviously, I can't pick out what Giles is saying, but I hear enough of her answers to know that she's much angrier at him than she was at me. No, scratch that. She's much angrier at him than she is at me right now. Of course, I've got the invalid card to play at the moment, so I'll have to wait and see how that works out when I'm up and about. And, judging by the way I'm feeling just now, that's going to be quicker than it should. I really don't know what happened back there, but something took the edge off my injuries, and if I'm not missing my guess, it's still at work.
She's actually defending me to Giles – and she's even threatened to resign if he sacks me. Not that I'd let her – she's got too much to lose, what with Dawn still to look after – and the wankers owe her after all she's done over the years. But the idea that she'd even threaten …
I stop there. I can't let myself dwell on this. It all sounds too good to be true, and if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that when it seems that way, it normally is.
I drift off again then, and only become aware when I hear voices close by. It's Dawn's voice I hear most clearly - Buffy's is softer, but Dawn's is strident. I almost take refuge in feigned sleep again, but decide to get it over with. Dawn hates me, and I get that. I pretty much hate myself for the way I let her down.
"What's all the noise about?" I ask when I open my eyes to find myself alone in the room.
I hear footsteps approaching, and I don't need any super senses to recognise Dawn's not so delicate tread.
"Spike? Buffy said you were sleeping."
"I was, but I'm not now."
"See," Buffy's voice comes from the doorway. "I told you you'd wake him."
"It's ok," I tell them both. "I've probably slept enough for a while anyway."
Dawn smiles nervously, and the scent she's giving off makes that nervousness even clearer. She looks over her shoulder at Buffy who glares back and then takes a few steps away - at least as far as the kitchen.
Dawn comes closer to me. She looks younger than she did - less the young woman of recent times and more the child who mourned her mum and then her sister.
"Spike, I'm sorry."
I wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that.
"Sorry? Why?"
"For hitting you. For … being such a bitch to you last year. For … everything."
"I deserved it. You were right last year. I let you down. And not letting Buffy know I was back? A really bad move. I know that now. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but it wasn't."
"You didn't deserve me hitting you. Or most of what I threw at you last year. I … I guess it's like I wanted to be a child again. You know, when you're little, you can't imagine a grown-up doing anything wrong. They always know what to do and how to do it. Like your mom, you know? She's always there for you and she always knows what to do to make you feel better. But as you get older, the problems get to be ones your mom can't always fix. But … I didn't get that. Mom dying when she did … I needed someone else to take over. And when Buffy died, that was you. You didn't ask to be the one, but you were there, and when everyone else around me didn't see how much I was hurting, I got to rely on you. But there's no one who could make everything right all the time. Part of growing up is realising that even grown-ups get it wrong sometimes. Sometimes they do things with the best intentions but it just doesn't work out. Sometimes things get complicated. I don't know exactly what happened between you and Buffy - she tells me it's complicated - but I know some stuff. I know you were both hard on each other in different ways, and I know she was being violent towards you. I guess I'm saying that when I was so mean to you last year, it was less because of what happened between you and Buffy, and more that you weren't there when I needed you. The 'you and Buffy' thing was just something to blame. And when I saw you here? Yes, you deserved to be yelled at, but hitting you was out of order, and I'm sorry."
I've been on the verge of interrupting a dozen times during her speech, but she kept holding up her hand, gesturing me to let her finish. And now she's finished, I don't know what to say. She's looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction, but I can't help her with that because my reaction is to be completely overwhelmed.
She turns to go, but I can't let her leave like that.
"Dawn. Stop."
She turns around, and there's something more hopeful in her eyes.
I hold out my arms to her as well as bandages and pain will allow and she comes to me, burying her face in close.
"There's nothing to say sorry for," I tell her. "It's all past, all of it. Whatever happened, maybe none of us was at our best."
She looks up at me and smiles.
"Ok, so when are you going to get your lazy carcass out of bed?"
"In about five seconds, young lady. You need to learn to respect your elders."
"Five seconds? That I'd like to see. There's no way you're going to catch me."
And with that, she dashes out of the room, bumping into Buffy at the doorway.
"You ok?" Buffy asks.
"Yeah," I answer. "I really think I am."
"Feel up to getting up? I've warmed some blood but I can bring it in here if you like."
I consider getting up, flexing muscles and testing for strength. "Yeah, I could make it to the kitchen. Pass me some clothes? There's bound to be something I can wear."
"Nope. I checked while you were sleeping. Nothing in here but jeans that stand up by themselves, and there's no way you're getting into them just now. That's why I asked Gus to get you these."
She opens the bag she'd had behind her. It's got some soft jersey trousers, jogger-style, and a matching zip up jacket.
"Not really my style, Love. I'll …"
"You'll put these on. Your arms aren't up to putting on a t-shirt either. Just do as you're told for once, Spike."
"Or?" I ask teasingly.
"Or … you'll hurt yourself." She throws the bag at me and stomps out of the room.
I pull the clothes out of the bag. At least they're black. I suppose he could have bought some awful baby blue or something.
By the time I've pulled them on, I'm glad she insisted. It took a while and was much harder than I thought. I try standing, and reckon I can manage the short walk without help. I hear her calling me into the living room, and I'm relieved when I can sink into one of the chairs there. She hands me a mug filled with warm blood, and I sip it slowly.
"What time is it?" I ask. I know it's daylight out, but beyond that I haven't got a clue.
"Around eleven." She yawns then.
"Had a good sleep then. Which is more than I can say for you. Did you even go to bed last night?"
"I lay down on the sofa for a while, and I dozed in the chair in your room."
"Not good enough. Off you go and get some sleep."
"But … "
"Buffy, you staying here with me - it means a lot, you know? But this isn't over. Once I'm mended and we hear back from Giles, there's still a big bad to sort out, and for that we need you fit and well. Go and sleep while you've got the chance."
"You sure you'll be ok?"
"Bloody sure. Can't imagine I'll be left alone for long anyway. Mrs. M. often used to pop in in the afternoon anyway."
"If you're sure," she says, standing up.
"I am. Sleep well … and … thanks."
"Last time I checked, I should be thanking you."
"Oh will you two stop dancing around each other? He saved you. Not the first time, probably not the last either. And you've saved him in the past too."
Dawn's in the doorway, grinning like a fool. Buffy glares at her, but I'm smiling.
"So, you going to kiss her goodnight?"
That gets a small laugh from Buffy. "Dawn, 'good morning' would be closer. But why don't you stay here and annoy Spike while I get some sleep?"
"Ok. But you have to kiss him."
She sighs deeply, but comes towards me. She kisses me on the cheek, and turns to go.
"That's so not what I meant," Dawn protests.
"I know," Buffy answers. "That's why that's what you got." She turns towards me. "Kick her out if she gets too annoying. I'll be back in a few hours."
"Like he could kick me out in that state," Dawn retorts to Buffy's retreating back. She turns to me. "Right. So, what do you want to do? Watch TV or hear what's been happening this last year?"
She doesn't give me a chance to answer, but instead launches into a detailed account of everything she's been doing since they got out of Sunnydale.
