Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit.
Chapter Six - Pyjamas
Back in the crypt Spike set about making a coffee for them both and producing the promised chocolate chip cookies.
Buffy settled in the armchair, while Spike sat on the arm, as she had done earlier, to watch a late night (well, early morning) horror flick, which had them both in stitches with poor acting, poorer scenery and a lamentable plethora of inaccuracies. Just before the credits rolled, the vampire 'hero' of the story was seen stalking off down a dark alley, showing his reflection in a waterlogged gulley running along the middle of the alley. At the vampire with the unintentional reflection, Buffy and Spike collapsed into fits of giggles that convulsed them as if they had never laughed before.
Buffy was laughing so hard she thought she was in danger of peeing her pants and Spike laughed so much he lost his balance and fell into Buffy's lap. There was a brief moment of shocked silence before the giggles broke out even louder as they both fell on to the floor in hysterics, tears rolling down their cheeks, gasping for breath (even though purely out of habit in one case) and clutching their sides in agony.
As the giggles subsided they looked at each other, sprawled on the floor, and Buffy said quietly, "Thank you, Spike."
"What for, luv?" he asked raising his scarred eyebrow quizzically
"For making me laugh. I haven't laughed like that for, well, since I became the Slayer, I guess." She smiled shyly.
Her words would have pierced his beating heart, had he had one, as he felt pain for her lost childhood, her lost innocence. But he had no words to make things better for her so instead he said:
"It's late, luv. Why don't you get some shut-eye?"
Although 'late' in this case actually meant early, as the sun was about to rise, Buffy nodded, suddenly realising how tired she still was.
Spike stood up. "You toddle off to bed, pet," he continued, "and I'll sleep here on the sarcophagus."
Buffy took a deep breath and made another decision. "You don't have to sleep up here, Spike. We could … share the bed. Like earlier. Just to sleep," she clarified.
"You sure you're okay with that, luv," Spike asked, hardly believing what she had said, even if it was 'just to sleep'.
"I'd like you to," Buffy answered quietly, "Please?"
He nodded and handed her a sports bag she recognised, "Niblet dropped off some of your clothes and stuff for you earlier. You nip down and give me a shout when you're ready, okay?"
"Yep, okay," agreed Buffy as she headed to the ladder. Once below she opened her sports bag and rummaged for her nightclothes, grateful to be able to get out of her BuffyBot costume. She groaned when she realised her 'helpful' little sister had packed her sexiest pyjamas, the ones Cordelia had bullied her into buying on a shopping trip a while back.
They were black silk with deep black lace borders set in to the bottom of the camisole top and the bottom of the legs of the pants. Red ribbon was threaded through the lace insets, decorated the edge of the deep neckline and formed the spaghetti straps of the camisole. It was completely NOT what Buffy felt comfortable in when sleeping next to a vampire in a crypt, even if black and red seemed rather apt. But as Dawn hadn't packed anything more serviceable, Buffy had to make do with it, making a mental note to strangle Dawn when she next saw her.
When she was safely tucked up in bed, the covers pulled tightly up to her neck, she called up to Spike to let him know she was ready.
Spike climbed down the ladder and extinguished the various candles that had provided the only light in the lower level. He removed his shirt and t-shirt before slipping into bed alongside Buffy, the darkness not an impediment to his enhanced vampire eyesight. "G'night, luv," he murmured.
"Goodnight, Spike." Buffy replied softly. Then, "Spike?"
"Yes, luv?"
"Will you ….will you hold me, please? Just hold me?" Buffy's request was tentative and hesitant.
Spike moved across, wrapping his arms around Buffy and drawing her to him. He raised an eyebrow as he touched silk and lace. She snuggled up against his chill, smooth, firm chest and breathed, "Thank you."
And then Spike thought he felt her lips pressing a kiss against his chest. If he was given absolution now he could expect no more from heaven itself.
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They woke together just after midday, still entwined in each others arms.
"Morning, luv. Fancy a cuppa?"
"Morning. A cup of what?"
"A cuppa. A cup of tea, silly!"
"A cuppa coffee would be of the good."
"Okay, you Philistine, coffee it is. Shower's through there," Spike indicated towards the back of the chamber, "Come up when you're ready."
He pulled his t-shirt on and disappeared up the ladder to the upper level.
A short while later vampire and slayer were sitting nursing mugs of coffee while Spike warmed up croissants and pain au chocolate courtesy of the groceries Clem had dropped off the day before, at Spike's request via Dawn.
"So," Spike began as he placed a plate full of warm pastries on the sarcophagus lid to join the unsalted butter and strawberry preserve. "We need to talk about Glory."
"Do we have to ruin a perfectly enjoyable breakfast, um, brunch, whatever, with that hell-bitch?" moaned Buffy, stuffing a corner of croissant into her mouth.
"You like my breakfasts do you, Slayer?" Spike asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.
"Might do. What's it to you?" she replied, smirking back.
"Well, it's nice to know when I'm appreciated, is all."
Buffy looked down at the paper napkin that served as her plate. "I appreciate you, Spike," she said softly.
Spike put his hand lightly on her arm briefly. "Thanks, luv."
After a moment of silence, during which both Buffy and Spike wanted to say something meaningful but couldn't quite find the courage, Spike continued:
"So, Glory. What d'you reckon?"
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Several hours, and several cups of tea (at Spike's insistence) later, Buffy and Spike had discussed every angle of the inevitable showdown with Glory and all they had managed to agree was that they should take the fight to Glory, rather than wait for her to decide the time and place to do battle.
Buffy was set on finding a way to defeat Glory through greater strength, when in reality she knew that a god would always trump a slayer in the power stakes. To Buffy's surprise Spike was much more focused on developing a strategy for overcoming Glory that didn't rely on a contest of brute force, which, whilst he wouldn't say anything, he knew, even with him fighting by her side, Buffy would lose.
Just as they were about to abandon their weary and so far fruitless attempt at battle planning, Spike jumped up as if struck by a shaft of sunlight.
"I've got it!" He beamed from ear to ear, pulled Buffy off of the sarcophagus they were using as their campaign table and swung her around in his arms. "I know how we can pull this off!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "Dunno why I didn't think of it before. It's bloody perfect!"
He set Buffy down and gazed into her eyes, "I told you you'd beat her."
"Hey, we haven't beaten her yet, so don't start counting your ducklings yet Mister. What did you have in mind?" Buffy was smiling.
"Well, I have a mate who deals in dodgy goods," he began, stopping as Buffy rolled her eyes. "You know what, luv," he said easily, "Let's just say I need to go out as soon as the sun sets and I'll fetch back what we need to bring that skanky god of bad home perms to her just reward. Then we'll need to go out on patrol to find the Cookie Monster."
"You mean that purple dinosaur-dragon thing we fought yesterday, er, well, this morning actually. Anyway, we killed it and it went 'poof' back to where it came from so I don't think that's gonna help us." Buffy frowned.
"Not the purple spiny sourpuss, pet. We need to track us another inter-dimensional creature tonight. There'll be more than one roamin' around, mark my words. We just need to find one, okay?"
"Okay!" agreed Buffy, but she was very confused and not at all convinced that Spike hadn't just lost the plot.
As neither of them could do anything about the Glory situation until nightfall, the two warriors set about making a 'bacon butty' each (hot ham roll with red or brown sauce - red for Buffy, brown for Spike) and chatted about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company and not having to think about coming battles.
After they had eaten and they were lolling on the easy chair, Spike perched on the arm, their conversation turned to the vexed question of the Scoobies. Buffy explained how, as much as she loved them all dearly, she felt put upon by them. She felt they expected too much from her, to keep them safe, to always know how to defeat the enemy and to always do the 'right' thing, even if it didn't feel 'right' to her.
"It's like they put me on a pedestal I don't deserve and then are disappointed in me when I fall off it," Buffy moaned.
"Sound's to me like they can't put you on that pedestal unless you let them, luv," Spike offered.
"I don't understand."
"Well, seems to me that your mates can only have the sort of power over you to make you feel bad about yourself if you let 'em, luv. You feel bad because you think they expect too much of you and you let them down. But isn't it that YOU expect too much of YOURSELF and then feel bad when you don't come up to your own exacting standards?
"If you could ease off on yourself a bit you'd see what a bloody marvellous job you do and you wouldn't let your friends opinions weigh so heavily on you. If they're wrong you would pay them no heed, knowing you had done a stand up job, but if you thought they were right you wouldn't bleeding worry about it, just take it on board for next time. Make sense?" Spike cocked his head on one side.
"Yeah, I think I see what you're saying," conceded Buffy, "But how'd you get so insightful all of a sudden?"
"Over a century of observing human nature doesn't exactly count as 'all of a sudden', pet. But it seems to me that people can only have power over you if you give them that power. You're a very powerful, courageous and intelligent woman, Buffy, don't let others take your power by default."
In spite of herself, Buffy felt her cheeks flush and she dipped her head to avoid meeting Spike's earnest, piercing blue eyes.
Spike placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so that she was looking at him. He spoke quietly but with conviction: "And what you said earlier about people leaving you, luv. You need to know that I will never leave you. All the time you want me around, I'll be there, promise." He dipped down to place a brief kiss on Buffy's forehead, then, not trusting himself any further, he jumped up and asked brightly, " 'Nother cuppa, pet?"
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The rest of the afternoon was spent in arguing over what to watch on the TV and then wrestling over the remote. When their tussling threatened to turn into something a little more arousing, they both backed off and settled down to watch a re-run of a cop show both had seen before.
Later, as the sun was barely setting, Spike set off to see his mysterious 'friend' ('fence' more like, thought Buffy) saying he wouldn't be long. Buffy sat back in the easy chair, her feet propped on one of the wooden crates and began to mull over what had happened to her in the last few days.
About forty minutes later Buffy roused herself from her ruminations as she heard Spike returning. He had a triumphant smile on his face as he announced with undisguised glee, "Got 'em!"
"Whatcha got then? Let's see."