Chapter 5: Home Sweet Hellmouth

Buffy is curled up into a ball in her seat, lost in dreamland. Her face is hidden by wavy tresses of blonde hair, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. A brave hand nudges her shoulder softly, bringing her back to reality.

"Buffy? Hey, Buffy. We're here," the voice whispers.

Her eyes blink open to Willow standing over her wearing a new set of clothes: a cream-colored tank with green, corduroy pants and … Faith's jean jacket? Interesting. Buffy runs a hand over her groggy face, finding minimal drool. She notices the empty seat next to her.

"Where's Spike?" Buffy blurts out.

"I don't know. He was one of the first ones off the plane, right before sunrise. I'm guessing Giles is showing him and the others around," Willow replies.

Buffy slowly lifts herself off the seat one vertebrae at a time. She stretches, she groans, she pulls the cover over the window to hide an annoying ray of sunlight.

"Unlikely. Giles sounded less-than-happy about Spike on the phone," Buffy finally says.

"Don't worry, I gave him the 'play nice' conversation when we landed. I'm sure they're cracking jokes and talkin' sports as we speak."

Willow unveils a thermos of Buffy's favorite beverage - Columbian Roast coffee. She can practically see hearts form in the Slayer's eyes as she places it in her hands.

"Have I mentioned how much I love you?" Buffy takes a long, savoring sip of caffeine as they begin making their way off of the plane.

"No, but why don't you tell me after you've showered. Demon blood doesn't smell any better six hours later," Willow teases, poking at Buffy's stained shirt.

"You're cheeky this morning." Buffy narrows her eyebrows.

"What? I'm always like this." Willow subconsciously hugs Faith's jacket to her body. Buffy follows her movement with suspicious eyes.

"Mhm. Sure," she huffs. "Nice jacket. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, this? I've … always had it?"

"Willow, there's a Megadeath pin on it."

"Yeah, so? Their music is … soothing. Fine, Faith lent it to me last night."

There's a thick silence as Buffy continues drinking her coffee and staring Willow down. Since when are Faith and her "clothes-sharing" people? The two girls set foot onto the plane ramp and pick up their speed as they move downward.

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"I don't know," Willow shrugs. There's a slight shift in her demeanor that Buffy, being her best friend, catches right away. The pace of her voice and walk accelerates due to an anxiety she didn't have thirty seconds ago. She's being weird. Why is she being weird?

"O-kay." Buffy hides a wary look behind her thermos as they reach the entrance to their Cleveland swings open the door and they walk into the lobby. Buffy opens her mouth to say something but Willow interjects before she can get a word out.

"I better get going. I'm teaching a seminar on The History of Witchcraft, which the girls kindly refer to as 'nap time'," Willow snorts. "I'll see ya later." She runs off.

Buffy takes a moment to assess Willow's peculiar behavior. Is Willow … ? No, there's no way. I mean, she has been in rebound-mode after breaking it off with Kennedy. But Faith? That's my crazy Buffy brain seeing things that are most definitely not there. Probably to avoid focusing on my real problems. Like Spike.

Buffy walks through the Slayer Organization with her much-needed cup of joe. She is greeted by smiling faces and a variety of "morning, Buffy"'s welcoming her back into the world. As she makes her way through the building, her wandering eyes search for the unlikely tour of their HQ that Willow insists is happening, but find no evidence of such an act. It's more likely that Angel stepped away to brood, Spike got bored and Xander is somewhere hitting on Illyria. Oh, god. Buffy tries not to overthink the fact that two of her vampire ex-boyfriends and a God are lurking somewhere in her Headquarters.

The longer she parades around in grimy clothing, the more Willow's suggestion of taking a shower sounds like a good idea. Buffy makes a left turn down the hallway to her room, opens the door and undresses immediately. She runs a hand through her hair to find what could only be a mixture of demon blood, dirt and ash. Yuck. Good call, Will. Buffy feels a pang of embarrassment thinking about last night when she nuzzled into Spike's side with her grubby hair.

I'm sure he didn't notice anything … with his enhanced sense of smell.

As Buffy cleans away any and all remnants of the battle, she can't get Spike out of her head. They still have yet to engage in a real, adult conversation. She could tell he didn't want to get into it last night and he disappeared this morning without a word. Maybe he just ... didn't want to wake me up. Plus, the sun's not exactly a friend to vampires.

But Buffy is dangerously close to thinking things have changed - and that he might not want much to do with her anymore.

The slayer wraps a light pink towel around her petite body and shuffles through her wardrobe for something to wear. Should I go for a casual look today? Trendy? Chic? Preppy? Or a nice Girl-Next-Door look? Ugh. There's no clear option on what to wear when your ex - who just came back from the dead - is avoiding you.

A thought rings through her mind like a bell.

Hm. Actually, yes, there is.

Buffy rummages - or rather, hunts - for the perfect outfit in mind. She clips her fingers around a low-cut, skin-tight, black mesh top and a pink silk mini-skirt.

Wait, no. Dark colors. He likes dark colors.

Buffy swaps out the pink for a midnight-blue skirt - this one with a skimpy slit on the side.

Bonus.

She tops the look off with knee-high boots and a suggestive chain around her neck, just in case she's not drawing enough attention to her cleavage. Buffy readies herself in the mirror and tilts her head to one side.

Maybe this is ... a little much.

There's a knock at the door. Buffy quickly runs a brush through her long locks, slides a scrunchie around her wrist and twists the knob open to an unexpected face.

"Giles!" Buffy fights the urge to throw her arms over her revealing top.

No. I am a grown woman. I have every right to dress slutty, she reassures herself.

"Hello, Buffy. Can we speak privately for a moment?" She steps aside, allowing him room to enter her quarters.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not, no. I just wanted to congratulate you on a successful mission." Giles' voice is as gentle as ever. He pats the shoulder of his kind-of daughter on his way inside. "I'm glad everything went smoothly."

Buffy shuts the door behind her. She can tell he has more to say.

"But?"

"But I am …" Giles removes his glasses and rubs over the lenses. "... concerned about some of the 'allies' you've brought back with you."

"You mean Spike?" Buffy's voice is almost defensive.

"No, not just Spike, although he is as insolent as ever," he grumbles, putting his glasses back on. "The woman. Illyria, also known as Illyria the Merciless. She's an Old One; a God-"

"I know. And Angel assured me that we have nothing to worry about. I mean, I wouldn't piss her off or anything, but-"

"What happens if we do? Anger her? Displease her? If she doesn't like what we serve at dinner, will she retaliate in some way?"

Buffy doesn't have an answer - not one that will satisfy her watcher, anyway.

"We have to protect our own, Buffy. We are responsible for these girls. We can't be adding any unnecessary threats to their lives," Giles finishes sternly.

"We don't know that she's a threat. And if she is, wouldn't you rather keep her close, where we can watch her?" Buffy lowers her voice in case heightened hearing is one of Illyria's many abilities. "If she's bad news, I'm going to have to deal with her. No matter where she is."

In Giles' silence is a sense of understanding; he knows just as well that, if she turned rogue, Illyria would become their problem, just as Angel's battle with the Senior Partners did.

"Besides. She could be a real asset to us," Buffy adds.

"Yes, it appears recruiting former serial killers is indeed a habit of ours," Giles says snarkily. Buffy rolls her eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Speaking of reformed killers …" Buffy starts, trying not to be completely obvious. "Have you seen-"

"I believe Spike is in the sparring room down the hall." Giles looks almost pained delivering this information. It's no secret that he disapproves of Spike and the connection he has to Buffy. However, those feelings drove him and his slayer apart once before; it's possible Giles wants to repair the part of their relationship that was lost in Sunnydale. After all, Spike did sacrifice himself and put an end to their war with The First. That's got to count for something. Even for Giles, Buffy hopes.

Giles musters a smile and says, "Be careful, Buffy. Don't lose focus," before exiting.

I won't.

The slayer waits a few moments after Giles leaves her chambers before leaving it herself. She walks down the grey-carpeted corridor to her favorite sparring room, takes a deep breath and pushes open the wooden door to find Spike wrestling a punching bag. He freezes at the sight of her. Buffy stops on the other side of the punching bag and ceases its movement with a firm grip.

"You're being avoidy," she says.

"I'm not being avoidy. I just … I got lost in this giant maze you call a Headquarters." Spike's eyes drift away from hers for a moment. Vexed by his lie, Buffy crosses her arms dauntingly.

"Okay, you caught me, Slayer. I'm being avoidy," he admits to her icy stare.

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

"What isn't?" Buffy drops her arms to her sides in an attempt to loosen up before beginning her exhaustive interrogation. "How long have you been back?"

Spike racks his brain for the answer and when he finds it, he fears her reaction.

" ... eight months."

"Eight months," Buffy repeats in a darker tone. "You've been back eight months."

"Listen, Buffy-"

"Spike, why didn't you tell me? Like, right away," she bursts out. Buffy's not used to being the one trying to pry information out of him about their relationship - and she doesn't like it. "Did you not want to see me or something?"

"Of course I wanted to see you!"

"Want-ed? What, you don't anymore?" Buffy can't help her voice from sounding oversensitive as she latches onto unrealistic scenarios. "Is it because I put my gross, demon blood-soaked hair on you last night? Are you disgusted by me now?

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

"I didn't see you because I was afraid," he spits out. "I was afraid you didn't need me. And they needed me there - in L.A. Fighting the good fight."

Silence fills the distance between them. Buffy feels a sharp pain stab at her chest; it's humiliation for making the situation about her and not his own path; it's regret for ever causing him to think she didn't need him; it's fear - because what she feels is indeed the opposite.

"Were you ... ever going to tell me?"

Spike sighs and shifts into story-mode.

"I was going to boat it to Europe and surprise you. But all I could think about on the way there was … how will I ever be able to top an exit like that again? You, me, holding hands in the fiery depths of Hell. My good-looking face turning to ash in one mind-blowing sacrifice." Buffy rolls her eyes at his oh-so-familiar ego. "I didn't want to soil your memory of me. So I turned around and came back."

Although she's not entirely satisfied with this explanation, she lets Spike continue.

"A few weeks after that, Captain Forehead got word that you were mixed up with that ponce, The Immortal, so we came to rescue you." Spike's feet shift on the hard-wood floors. "Turned out you didn't need rescuing."

Buffy knows he's hinting at the fact that The Immortal and her were an item - except they weren't. She was never actually in Rome; with Andrew's help, the Scoobies placed a decoy of her there in order to fool their enemies and apparently it fooled Angel and Spike as well. Not bad, Andrew, Buffy thinks. I'll have to give him a gold star or something. She contemplates telling Spike the truth about the fake Buffy decoy but decides that's a conversation for another time.

"Truth be told, I was kind of glad we never crossed paths," Spike adds. "Seeing the life you built for yourself in Rome ... it didn't feel right; me, showing up unannounced ... " He distractedly traces his finger along the punching bag, wondering what Buffy's expression looks like as she faces the floor.

"But then ... yesterday," Spike swallows the lump in his throat, his ocean-blue eyes fixed on her. "I thought I was a dead man. I figured the Senior Partners would do me in for good and I'd never get another chance to see you again. So I called. A few times. No answer. But your voicemail was a decent substitute for the real thing. You sound so ... happy."

Buffy's eyes are now locked on his. Her voicemail plays over in her head:

Hey, it's Buffy! Whatever unfortunate chain of events has led you to calling this number - leave a message and I'll get back to you! But I strongly suggest sending a text because it's 2004. BEEP.

"Since when do you have a cell phone?" she asks bewilderedly.

"That's what you got from that whole thing?

"Here's what I got from that," Buffy begins. Spike knows he's in for it by her harsh tone. "You waited until you thought you were gonna die to tell me you were alive … so I could … what? Mourn you all over again?"

"Well, when you put it like tha-"

"What kind of twisted logic is that? When I came back from the dead, you were like … the fifth person I saw."

"That's hardly the same situat-"

"I practically dug my way out of the grave to say hi. And I couldn't even get a text?" Buffy rages in a voice that can only be considered completely adorable to Spike, who tries to hide his smile best he can.

"You done?" he asks, knowing the answer. Buffy shakes her head and paces back and forth, glancing at Spike occasionally through her speech.

"No, I'm not done! Not only did you wait until the last minute to call me but you guysnever even considered asking for help with the Senior Partners? You were just going to accept your fates? Boneheads! Thank god we found out about it when we did cause yeah, without my help, you'd be pretty dead right now. I swooped into that alley and saved both your asses. Well, Willow did most of the work … but still. I drove her there so I'm taking half the credit."

"Now are you done?" Spike's devilish grin starts to have an effect on Buffy so she refrains from looking at it.

"Probably."

"I should've told you. I'm a coward. I'm a fool. I'm a bad, rude man. Is there any way you can forgive me?"

"Hm, I don't know," Buffy retorts playfully. "Doesn't sound like something I'd do."

Spike moves towards her; not too close, but close enough for them both to notice the energy between them shift a little. He exhales deeply.

"I promise I'll make it up to you, pet."

Buffy's deadly serious scowl transitions into a beam of contentment as she finally lets herself really look at him. In her survey of his face, she remembers how the lines within Spike's iris look like little bolts of white lightning surrounded by a deep blue. Her eyes travel down to his low, razor-sharp cheekbones and gradually move toward his undeniably sensual lips. Buffy realizes this is the first time she found herself focused on them since he got his soul. There's a fine, elegant curve to them in the gentle smile he wears.

Before staring at Spike's lips for what could be considered too long without kissing them, Buffy breaks the tension.

"I should probably check in with Faith. Make sure we have everything set for patrol tonight."

"You guys don't waste any time, huh, Slayer?"

"They don't pay me the big bucks to waste time. Actually, they don't pay me anything," Buffy scoffs, whips around and heads for the door. As a thought suddenly hits her brain, she halts her movement and turns her head half-way. Spike watches her intently,

"For the record ..." she starts, her voice low and sweet. "You're wrong. I needed you."

Spike doesn't let himself believe the words, but they sound so good coming out of her mouth. I needed you. It plays over and over in his head. What does she mean, "I needed you"? Like needed an extra fighter? Or did she mean ...

He fantasizes about running over to Buffy and pulling her into a soft embrace, like they're in some cheesy Rom Com - but he doesn't. That was never their style. Instead, Spike stays where he is and asks something he doubts she'll answer.

"What about now?"

"What do you mean?" Buffy quavers and meets his earnest gaze.

"Do you need me … now?"

She mulls over the words for a while, turning away from him again at some point during her contemplation. She knows her heart; it's messy, complicated and according to the First Slayer, "full of love." However, Buffy decides it's easier to push away any and all feelings (like usual) and save her verbal answer for another day. But her eyes tell Spike everything he needs to know. She smiles just barely and leaves the room, leaving the vampire alone with his new favorite punching bag and thoughts full of her.