Friends (Or More)
By Sweetprincipale
Author's Note: Thank you, reviewers! Also, my full-length "Spuffy" novel CrossRealms: Shattered by S. is now out on Amazon, and it's free if you have Kindle Unlimited. Please go check it out!
Part V
"This may seem like a dumb question, but did you ever get the homework sorted?"
"No. But my first class is at nine, so I'll get done what I can. If Willow feels better, she'll probably channel energy into correcting my grammar on the one essay I did start."
There was silence, broken by the pained stifled sounds he tried not to make. "She's not going to feel better," Buffy admitted softly.
"Not until he comes back for good, or she finds someone who won't leave. Although, gotta say, not to bring up past indiscretions, but she and the boy, not the wolf, the other one-"
"Xander."
"They were quite the hot item when I-"
"Hey! You only knew about that because you kidnapped them. Don't bring it up. Not helping."
"Understood."
Buffy was silent. She could feel his weight sagging against her, and she hated the feeling. She was strong, but so was he. He shouldn't be weak like this, not a second night in a row. Shouldn't be hurting, and yet vampires and Slayers, they were constantly taking a beating.
"Angel treated me like I was so fragile. Poor little blonde bimbo, handed destiny and a stake," Buffy muttered.
"You said it, not me," Spike swallowed remarks that ached to burst forth regarding her bimbo-ness.
"I liked that he didn't think I was completely tough gal, nothing but warrior. I didn't like that he thought I was ninety percent prom queen, though."
"Where's this going?"
"You aren't one hundred percent warrior guy. Demon, evil vampire baddie kinda warrior, but- not completely."
"No. Suppose I can't lie about that to you. Wait-" he half-fell, stopped and did something to his busted shoulder that earned a string of curses.
"I like that there's gentle with you. And it goes both ways," Buffy finished in a rush as soon as they were moving again. Gentle was a word she didn't feel comfortable using in connection with Spike, or herself, not outside of certain intimate situations where it felt safe.
Do I feel safe with him now? I guess so.
There wasn't any tensing up around him. Only worry that he was hurt. And prickling fear in her head that he wouldn't like the term she'd just used either.
"You called me a warrior."
"In conjunction with the terms baddie and kinda," Buffy reminded him.
"No one's ever said that about me."
"I'm sure your minions thought it," Buffy said with a strange feeling of friendship-borne loyalty.
"Maybe. To me, warrior implies you fight for a noble cause."
"There can be evil warriors!"
"Why are you supportin' me?"
"You can't walk right? You kissed a Chevy?" Buffy discreetly looked for skull fractures.
"Not physically. You're makin' with the verbal support, the proppin' up my ego."
"Want me to stop?" I think I should stop.
Silence.
"Spike?"
He mumbled his answer self-consciously. The bruised face didn't help, either. "When you say things, I like the sound of 'em. Didn't used to. Used to annoy the bloody hell out of me."
"Mutual."
Their eyes met with a sudden smile. "Friendship changes a lot of stuff," Buffy finally whispered softly.
What kind of stuff? Both of them were wondering. They moved closer together, falling into step more perfectly, her slight figure working to accommodate his injuries. He felt a little hum in her blood that hadn't been there before, and through his pain, something was rising to answer it, provide the other half of the soundtrack their bodies were making. "You wanna come in tonight?"
Come into his place. Alone. He could turn on me. He could turn me on. Wow, funny what you can do when you rearrange just a few little words. "What about blood?"
Damn. "I forgot."
"You forgot?" Buffy stopped and he didn't. Spike went pitching forward only to be snagged back, cursing vehemently over her gasping apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I… How the heck could you forget you need blood? You're hungry and hurting and broken."
How could I forget that? One knitting shoulder says it'll take three gallons of the best, keep another few humans on standby for afters. But then… "I was thinkin' it'd be nice to be with you, no danger of interruptions. That's all." It truly was. Imagining her alone with him, like they were last night, or even closer, blotted out everything else.
"That's really… sweet," Buffy marveled. Romance novel sweet. Deepest kind of friendship sweet. Shouldn't happen. Why not? If you save each other's lives, which we have, you can be sweet. "That was unexpected."
"I know. Red seems like a keeper, can't imagine what that idiot's thinking," Spike muttered, shaking his head.
"What? Oh, yeah, that break up was crazy unexpected. But you saving me was unexpected. Us… like this was unexpected."
"Give you that," Spike huffed, limping along. "If I'd have known how much pain it entailed…"
Buffy held her breath.
"I still would've done it, Slayer, it's just a bit painful to talk. I think my jaw's out of socket," Spike wrenched his mandible about for a second.
"Here, I can help." Buffy put herself in front of him, laying a hand on each side of his face. Reeling a bit, he put his good arm on her waist for balance.
"Liked this better when we were dancin'," he laughed softly.
"Yeah, well-" Buffy suddenly twisted his jaw back into place with a harsh "pop." "Maybe we can do that later," she suggested over his brief roar of pain. "Sorry!"
"Better now," Spike admitted.
The two walked on in silence. "Not long now," Buffy encouraged after they turned onto Thousand Oaks Drive, just two more blocks to go. "Can I ask one more thing?" He nodded. "You and I didn't part on good terms. At all," Buffy reminded him. "You couldn't have known we would end up even talking, let alone being friends."
"Yeah, your point?" Spike snarled slightly, longing to just get into a chair, and maybe the wooziness would evaporate.
"You decided to save me anyway."
"True."
"Why?"
Why indeed. Throw away years and years with one woman he loved, for something that might never be anything. Yet, it was turning out beautifully, aside from the frequent injuries. "We talked about this already. The night of the angry frat boys and hot cocoa." He grinned.
"I was just wondering what put the idea in your head in the first place, though. I know you said you were tired of being my enemy. I guess… I wondered what sparked that. What set this really wiggy train of events in motion." I'm wondering the same things but in reverse. So what if someone saves you? He's tried to kill you more. What makes you take a risk?
He considered. "Two reasons. No, three."
"A list, goody," Buffy joked to cut the tension she felt.
"I'm a gambler. I bet on a good return." He winked so she'd know there was seriousness under his shallow words. "I always hope. I'm not a quitter. I hoped that if I took a step in a new direction, the road would be there." And if it wasn't, I'd have kept trying to make inroads, until you staked me for it… "Lastly, I wanted you to be in this world. To be the kind of person- I wished I had in my corner, the way you are for the rest of the little scrappy band, the Slayerettes," he concluded quietly.
"The way you are, for the people who matter to you."
She got it. She saw the good part of him, even though she knew he was evil. "Perceptive, aren't you?" he breathed out unevenly.
"Like you," her own lungs seemed to falter.
"This isn't - terrible," Buffy helped him through the door.
"Oh do stop, spare my blushes," Spike snarked back as he pushed off and made it into the recently repurposed recliner, taken last week from the dump. He struggled out of his coat and winced at the tears in the leather. "Sod. Loved that coat."
"Willow can magic it back, good as new. Or Giles will know a tailor. Either way, we'll fix it," Buffy promised. She paused, looking at the coffins, the recliner, the microwave, the faded and worn Oriental rug. He tries. Gets by.
I don't know if I want my friend to live like this. Angel at least had an apartment. Not much, but- Stop. No comparing. She turned her eyes back to him, watching him undo the laces on his boots and reveal dried blood on one ankle and shin. He's beat up. Like, a lot.
"Spike?"
"Hmm?"
"Vampires should heal faster than you are, or be a lot harder to injure."
"Slayer, if a human had met that truck head on, you'd be looking at multiple body bags, one for each section, all right?" he groused. "I'm fine. Better once you get to Willy's."
"I'll go right now. How many bags do I ask for?"
"Four. Cash in the pocket," he nodded toward his coat.
"I'll get it," Buffy waved him away.
"How?"
"What?"
"How do you pay for my upkeep, Luv? It's not on."
"No, I can. I have- ways," Buffy didn't want to admit that those ways meant a small allowance from her mother. She'd need a job this semester, and fast. "I can sometimes. This time, definitely."
"You just said the other night you've gotta look for a job this semester."
"Spike. What's the price on saving the life of my best friend? Plus mine?"
He ignored that comment. Truth was, if things hadn't tipped in her favor by him, she'd still have won. But Red, now… "Fifty-fifty split, all right? Take the cash while I've got it."
"Do you need anything else? Aspirin? Bandages or gauze or something? You really should have a first-aid kit."
That'd be good. Funny her thinking of that. Like she cares if I get better. Guess she does. What a head trip. "I'll manage. I feel better sittin' down. Wanna sit with me?" he smirked. He managed to look sexy, even puffy around one side of his face, gashed and bruised from hairline to jaw. "Mind the ribs. The shoulder. Basically this whole side." He gestured vaguely.
"Oh, Spike," Buffy found herself sighing and coming back to his side. "Thank you. Again. I know, I know I said it, but Willow's my… Willow's the closest thing I have to a sister. Xander's like my brother. I can't imagine life without them, and you may have really screwed up in the past with both of them- no, scratch that. You totally screwed up, but thank you for saving her now."
"New steps, Luv. Right direction." He looked up at her with a lazy smile. Her hand found his good shoulder, and his hand found her wrist.
Take care of him. He'll take care of me, too. It's - weird. But good. "I'll be back fast." Buffy leaned down and kissed him softly, fleetingly on the lips. "You'll be okay?"
"Peachy," he winked. "Take half the money. Okay?"
"This time, okay." Buffy fumbled through his coat which had a surprising amount of pockets. Knives, stakes, lighters, cigarettes, cash, broken necklace, folded lottery tickets and beer bottle caps. "Spike, you gotta clean this thing out."
"Lecture me after I'm better, Luv," he grunted and shifted painfully.
"I'll make you feel better as soon as I get back."
The words hung in the air. Make me feel better? How? Some definitely x-rated images assailed him and he tried to blot them from his mind's eye. Think about those later. When I'm alone and free to let my mind wander...
What does that mean? I mean… there are things that I could do, I guess. Sponge off the blood, make sure he ate, help him get comfortable, all of those things, that'd be okay. Images of decidedly naughty ways of nursing him back to health also pushed themselves into her mind. Oops. Not like that. But part of her wanted to think about those thoughts in detail, once she was alone.
They parted with an awkward smile, both trying to ignore the curious, slightly hungry gleam in each other's eyes.
"Six bags. I told Willy I would donate two 'Get Away from the Slayer Free' cards for his raffle. There's a 'death to an innocent exception' on there, but petty demonic-ness I can overlook," Buffy recounted breathlessly as she returned to the crypt.
"That's mighty broad-minded of you, Luv. Thanks. Also- what? Willy's holdin' a raffle? What're the other prizes?"
"Um, there was a washer/dryer and a 'clear your bar tab' ticket, and I think there might have been a basket of kittens. I don't want to know about that, do I?"
"Nope," Spike swiveled his head and watched her tentatively open the microwave after finding his chipped white mug, recently nicked from a busy diner where they didn't notice his light-fingered removal of several spoons and a bottle of tabasco along with it. "Your get out of bein' killed passes will be the big-ticket items now, Luv. I hope you got all the bags for free."
"I was too busy to be a good negotiator," Buffy admitted. She hadn't liked the puzzled, then furtively knowing look Willy gave her when she asked for blood, all human again. "This is the last of the human blood he had in stock. He said he was running low. Next week he should have a shipment."
"Animal it is," Spike sighed."At least until the new shipment arrives."
Or willing donors, Buffy found herself thinking, pouring the blood into the mug, swallowing hard where he couldn't see her. No. I don't want him to be degraded and go to a "bite house", but I don't want to be used either.
She brought the steaming mug to his hand in a moment and looked into his pleased, grateful eyes. Quietly, deeply appreciative eyes. Giving to a friend isn't being used.
"Easy!" Spike took the mug and noticed her hand was trembling, grip shaky. "Did Willy say somethin' to you? Did you have a run in with-"
"No, I'm fine," Buffy quickly covered. "I was just thinking about how glad I am that you didn't get hurt too much this time."
"My fractured ribs beg to differ." Spike sipped hurriedly.
"Ribs heal," Buffy murmured, looking around for a place to sit near him. Too bad she couldn't drag a coffin over.
Spike hesitated, and then with a painful groan, reached down with his good arm and threw back the corner of the rug, revealing a trap door. "You wanna sit on the edge of the chair with me? Or… there's similar accommodations to what we had last night."
Last night seemed like a million years ago. Last night, her bed, curled together. "How?"
"Oh, the basement level? It's got a few amenities for the discerning undesirable. This was a demon's lair once. He was leavin' town, found out from the locals it wasn't goin' to be used so I figured I'd take it over. Got a new bed, unloaded the car, and once I cleared out the larvae-"
"The what?" Buffy yelped.
"Skip that bit. It's nice enough downstairs. But the ladder might be a little tricky. On second thought, maybe we better-"
"We'll figure something out. I bet you'll be feeling better after a couple of baggies."
"Say pints, Luv, it makes me sound more like a hard drinker rather than a vamp who's housebroken," Spike grumbled into his mug.
He finished two bags and then stretched. "Well, fractures are still fractured, but prob'ly in a day or so it'll be just fine. Maybe even in the morning."
"Let me give you a hand," Buffy offered as he tried to stand.
"Nope, not yet," Spike quickly reversed course as his ribs complained. "You wanna head back to Red?" Spike asked suddenly.
"Huh? She has Xander, and even though I realize that may not sound ideal, he's been her friend practically since birth and he'll distract her and maybe even get her to eat and nap. Things I failed at today," Buffy sighed. "Why?"
"I don't think I'm in any kind of shape for dancin'. Or patrollin'. Or anything but sitting." That's not worth anything. That's when Drusilla would always leave, wander off after perfunctorily feeding him.
"Scoot over then, I guess," Buffy said, eyeing the chair critically. "If you lean a little to the right, I can just wedge myself onto the arm. Or, you know what? I can sit on the floor. I'm fine with the floor. The larvae weren't on this part, right?"
"No," Spike leaned with a wince. She hesitated between the floor and the chair, and his wince turned into a sound of contentment as she carefully joined him. "You don't have to stay."
"I wanted to. If you wanted me to," Buffy bit the inside of her lip, an anxious habit. "Do you want me to go?"
"I'm not used to friends who stay," Spike admitted, shrugging with his less damaged shoulder.
"Maybe they realized you would always be there when they needed you, so she - I mean they- took you for granted."
"Nice of you to keep up pretenses, Luv, but you called it. She didn't have as much patience for recovery unless it was hers. She was raised that way. Darla and Angelus were exclusive until they had a fancy to somethin' else, would help each other as long as they could get away unscathed by the effort. They taught her to-"
"It's okay. The reason doesn't matter," Buffy soothed, hating to see him tie himself in knots, and hating to think of Angel as the one who would abandon lovers so easily. She'd been beating herself up all these months for his leaving her, and maybe- maybe part of it was still that survival instinct, that "leave to save yourself and to hell with the other person's heart" instinct from centuries of selfish faux love.
Not like Spike. "It doesn't matter why she left. I'm not like that. I don't care that you can't walk much or dance tonight. I just like-" her head bowed to rest on his, "being around you."
Lips raised, mouths met, brains veered off course. "Can't do anything more dextrous, either," he fibbed. If she wanted to have a go, he'd bloody well give her one. But it'd be easier if she thought he wasn't a "threat" to her virtue for the evening.
Except she's smarter than she looks. And she'll hate me for lyin'. I don't want any more hate between us. I'd rather have some- well, never mind that. Just no more hate. "I s'pose I could, strictly speaking, but I don't plan on luring you downstairs to have my wicked way or anything like that."
"Good," Buffy looked relieved and they shared a smile. Then another kiss. "I've heard that."
"Heard what?"
"Wicked way. That means to have sex, right?"
"No finesse, Slayer, honestly." Spike rolled his eyes.
"Shut up. So, if you're evil, is there some particular 'wicked' in the wicked way department? Inquiring minds want to know." And possibly store the information for future use.
Spike considered. What was evil? Pain, death, violence. Sex could accompany plenty of pain and violence, yet oddly enough anything "violent" had been consensual, rough and sharp between two lovers with their own arsenal of claws and talons. Never a death from him, but from Angelus and Darla, yes. Plenty. They hurt and turned, ravaging minds and bodies without separation. "I didn't want the wicked. I wanted her," Spike whispered finally.
"Wicked was an afterthought?" Buffy murmured back.
"More like a side effect. An' I'm enjoyin' it, most of the time," he admitted. Loved the demon's strength, speed, power, immortality. Didn't love the loneliness anymore. What's the point of endless life if you're miserable and gutted during it? Didn't love the way people could turn on each other anymore. What's the fun "What's wicked to you, Slayer?"
Shoot. He turned the tables. "Hurting people. Hurting innocents, hurting people who counted on you. Lying. Stealing in a non-survival-y way. Killing, which of course falls under the hurting people category."
"Then no, I'm not particularly wicked. I might steal a kiss, which wouldn't be strictly for survival." He winked.
"That was terrible," she groaned, laughing.
"You needed a laugh. I love your smile, Pet. Haven't seen it much lately. Or much at all."
"Well… you used to equal bad, frowny things," she reminded him. "But now…" her fingertips trailed lightly over his collarbone, over a chest that was broken and battered, matching the heart inside it. "Now whenever I think about you, I smile. Even when I don't really want to."
"I'm just that awesome, Slayer."
"Maybe a little bit," she teased. Another kiss, another trail of hands, his uninjured side getting into the action. "I think… it'd be easier to do this, the kissing part, if you were lying down. You wouldn't have to look up and I wouldn't get a crick in my neck."
"You want to try another dry run?" Spike offered in a voice that he hoped was nonchalant and even. "Modified for the disabled vamp?"
"I… I don't even need that. I can just talk lying down. Or- or sitting up. Um. I'm easy. No! Flexible! I mean- not like that." She stopped talking at his snort of laughter. "Glad to see your 'make fun of Buffy bone' isn't cracked," she huffed, blushing.
"It's not exactly making fun of," Spike denied. "Besides, I'm glad you're flexible." His face turned into a leer.
Her cheeks went from light pink to dark rose, suddenly hot. "Why's that?"
"You're gonna have to be to maneuver us down there," he informed her, all joking aside.
"Oh. That."
To be continued...
End note: The next scene is significant, so please forgive me for ending here. I needed a reasonable stopping spot before the next long scene.