Chapter 66 - Declarations

Buffy went by the Magic Box the next afternoon and gave Giles the full report of her fight with Angelus. Willow already knew part of it, and Buffy guessed that she or Giles had already told everyone else. Which was fine, because she really didn’t feel like a big group meeting to recount how she’d almost gotten killed.

However, despite her protests that she really was fine now, Giles said that they had already made plans to cover patrol that night. Buffy gave in, figuring that she might as well enjoy the vacation while it lasted. Patrol-free nights were not something she would have a lot of in the future.

So she watched TV most of the evening. After her mother went to bed, she went upstairs to wait for Spike.

He appeared when she was in bed, coming in the open window. He turned to shut it.

“Leave it,” she said. “It’s a nice night.”

Spike shrugged, taking off his coat and draping it over her chair. Then he came and sat next to her on the bed. “Waitin’ for me, pet?”

Buffy was already wearing a pajama top and boxers, but was sitting cross-legged with her back to the headboard. She was in bed, but obviously not going to bed.

“You’re here.”

“That I am.”

He tilted his head and reached out to brush her hair back, looking at the spot on her neck. It was almost gone now, she knew. The skin was smooth but bruised, and even that would fade by tomorrow.

Like it never happened. Only it had.

Spike dropped his hand and just looked at her.

“Well?” Buffy asked.

“Well what?”

“It’s Saturday.”

For a moment he simply stared at her. “And?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Duh? Saturday? Blood?”

Spike looked at her in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Not last time I checked.”

“How can you think I’d—”

“What? Do what we’ve been doing?”

“You were nearly drained,” he said.

“I was not. If I’d been nearly drained, you would have taken me to get a transfusion.”

“The only reason you didn’t need a transfusion is because you’re the Slayer.”

“I’m fine! Why does no one believe that I’m fine now?” Buffy crossed her arms, trying to figure out exactly when this had become an argument.

“It was three days ago.”

“Slayer healing, here. Remember?” She arched a brow. “So will I be fine by next Saturday?”

He didn’t answer.

“So what, you’re never going to bite me again?”

“I don’t know!” Spike jumped to his feet. He acted like he was going to start pacing.

“Did I get vampire cooties from him or something?”

“No!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Y’know, if someone had told me I’d be standin’ here with a Slayer demandin’ that I drink her blood, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“And I wouldn’t believe that a vampire wouldn’t be drinking my blood. Besides, I’m just giving you what I owe you.”

He snorted. “We keepin’ a tab now?”

“We might as well. Business, right? What with all my orders!” Buffy jutted her chin out, bearing her throat. “C’mon, wouldn’t want you to think I’m skipping out on my part!”

“What you owe me?”

“Yes, what I owe you!”

“Well, you owe me six thousand dollars for one thing!”

“Yeah, well—wait, what are you talking about?”

Buffy frowned, genuinely confused.

Spike’s mouth was gaping open, like he realized he’d said one thing too many.

“It’s nothin’—I didn’t—”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said quickly.

“Spike? Mean what?”

He looked almost abashed as he sank down on the bed. “I didn’t get paid for the last few days of watchin’ you.” He looked at her. “And I knew, cause it was always cash upfront, but I stayed anyway.”

“But you said you were only doing it for the money.”

“At first. And I shouldn’t have cared, but I didn’t want anything to happen to you, and I knew it would. So I stayed. But just now, love, I didn’t mean—”

“Wesley knew,” she said blankly.

Funny out of all the things that Spike’s statement meant, that was what jumped to the front of her mind.

Spike frowned at her. “Of course he knew.”

“That’s it. That is just it.” Buffy jumped up, grabbing her phone. She dug through her desk drawer until she came up with Wesley’s card.

“You don’t believe me.” His voice echoed from behind her.

“Oh, I believe you,” she said, punching in Wesley’s cell number. “And in a minute we’re going to have a nice talk about it.” Then she shot him a death glare. “But shut up or get out. I don’t want him hearing you.”

She started pacing between the bed and the desk as the phone rang.

When Wesley answered, she started right in. “How could you? You just pick and choose what you want to say, don’t you?”

“Buffy? What’s going on? It’s rather late to—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Tell you what?” He sounded tired.

“That Spike had stayed, even though he wasn’t being paid.”

She could practically hear Wesley collecting himself. “I didn’t know myself until after he left you.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Buffy snapped. “When you were making your case against him, you never brought up that little fact.”

“You were already disposed enough in his favor. I certainly was not going to add to it.”

“Convenient, huh? Just left that part out.”

“Yes, I did. What would you have had me say? ‘Spike likes to kill Slayers. It also seems he’s rather fixated with you. Oh, and you owe him money.’”

“I was thinking not so much the money part, but the ‘he stayed’ part. Even though there was nothing in it for him at all.”

“I did what I thought was best,” he said.

“Yeah? Like not telling me how long Slayers live? Or like not telling me that these vampires on the Hellmouth were Spike’s family?”

“And what purpose would knowing their relation have served? Would you have fought them differently?”

“Of course not. But I would have at least known. I could have asked Spike about them.”

“And if you had, that would have defeated the purpose.”

Buffy fell silent, and froze in place. Her eyes fell on Spike, who was still sitting on the bed.

“You wanted to get me away from Spike,” she said after a moment.

“I wanted to get Spike away from you.”

“So, what? The whole fighting the good fight thing was just an excuse?” She whipped around, beginning to walk again.

“Of course not.” He sighed. “The Council genuinely wanted your presence on the Hellmouth. It was the right thing to do, Spike aside. But getting him away from you certainly didn’t make your going to Sunnydale less appealing. I negotiated with the Council for you. I even—”

“Because three vampires to deal with are so much better than one.”

“Buffy, he had an invitation to your home.”

Funny, she had never considered that. But in all that time, she hadn’t felt Spike follow her home even once. “How could you even think—”

“I didn’t, actually,” Wesley said, sounding defeated.

“Oh, I get it. He’s got enough honor not to kill me in my sleep, but not any other kind.”

“Spike stalked the Slayer in New York for weeks before he finally killed her,” he said sharply. “Buffy, he knew you. He already knew everything he needed to know. How long do you think his infatuation would have lasted? How long before he decided you were no longer amusing? It was only a matter of time. You don’t know how worried I was.”

“Yes, I did. And I tried to clear it up for you.”

“Why are you defending him? You didn’t want to even see him, if I recall.”

“No, I didn’t. But I wasn’t afraid of him. I was never worried he would hurt me.” Buffy paused, her hand on the edge of the desk. “I suppose I should at least appreciate you not telling Giles about the whole Spike thing,” she said, resigned.

“The fact that you had history with Spike shouldn’t be held against you.”

Oh, if Wesley only knew. She was tempted, for the shock value alone, but kept her mouth shut.

“Still, you shouldn’t have hidden anything from me. Spike wouldn’t have hurt me. He cares about me.”

“I did what I thought was best. That’s all anyone can do. Perhaps it was wrong,” he conceded. “Perhaps not. But you have no idea what could have happened. You don’t—”

“No, you don’t! You know what? You’re not the only one who did what they thought was best. And you know what else? I saw Spike after that night. We had a long talk. Several, in fact. Spike knows I’m in Sunnydale and he hasn’t bothered me. And you know what else? Those vampires that were after me? He killed the rest of them. He did it to protect me. For me!”

There was a silence. “Tell me, Buffy, who else has Spike killed for you?” he asked coldly.

Darla. He killed Darla for me. “What? Why would you even ask that?”

“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest idea. If I may ask, how exactly did it come to your attention that the bill hadn’t been paid?”

“Seems Dad has lots of unpaid bills.”

“Well, you certainly don’t need to worry about—”

“You know what? The thought of paying you never crossed my mind.”

“Very well. Anything else I should know?” he asked.

“Probably. Anything else I should know?”

“Probably.”

“Fine. Tell Spike he won’t have to do anything for free again.”

Buffy forcefully hit the button to end the call and then slammed the phone down on the desk.

“I didn’t.”

Spike was watching her.

“Do it for free,” he said.

Buffy sagged, feeling deflated. “Not being paid sort of sounds like the definition of free.”

He smirked. “I don’t do charity.”

She sat down next to him on the bed.

“I did it for you.” There was silence. “Because I didn’t wanna see you hurt. Because I could keep you from gettin’ hurt. You don’t owe me anything. At all.”

Spike shifted toward her. He traced his fingers over the skin below the hollow of her throat. “Buffy, if—if anything we do reminds you of—I don’t want to—”

Buffy looked at him with sudden understanding. She covered his hand with hers. “It doesn’t. You biting me has nothing to do with any other vampire biting me.”

“It always hurts a little. If it makes you think of being hurt—”

“It doesn’t.” She met his eyes. “At all.”

“All right,” he finally said. “Still not takin’ any blood tonight, though.”

She sighed. “Fair enough.”

Buffy scooted up to the top of the bed, crawling under the covers. Spike started to follow.

“Take your shoes off if you’re actually getting in,” she said, turning off the lamp.

He made an exasperated noise, but a moment later she heard two separate thuds on the floor. Spike moved behind her, spooning her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I can’t believe Wesley,” she said after a moment.

“He’s a wanker. Also thought I’d turn you, y’know.”

“Yeah, I mean—wait, how do you know that?”

“Had that conversation in a nice open cemetery, didn’t you?”

“Oh, right. You were stalking me. You know, if I didn’t like you so much, I’d be majorly creeped out and annoyed.”

“I’d never have turned you,” he said softly. “You need to be alive.”

“But it happens, doesn’t it? Someone a vampire doesn’t want to kill, someone they want to be like them?”

“Yeah, it happens. Fledges, mostly, turnin’ all their pals.” His hand traveled upward. “But you lose this.”

“My boob?”

Spike snorted. “Your heartbeat. Did you know I can pick out your heartbeat in a room full of people?”

“I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Turning changes you—the way you sound, the way you smell. And then there’s the somethin’ inside that changes.” Spike paused. “You always need to be Buffy,” he said quietly.

Which was why he’d been devastated when she’d first become the Slayer.

“Spike? Why weren’t you upset after you saved me from the vampires who thought I was the Slayer? When you told me what a Slayer was and made me hit you to check.”

“Didn’t really think it was you. Not then, not really. Yeah, it was strange they wanted you, but how could it have been you?”

“Yeah, if I was the Slayer, I wouldn’t have needed you back then.”

There was another silence.

“You know you’re never gonna get that six thousand dollars?” she joked.

Spike tightened his arm around her waist. “I’ve got somethin’ better.”
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It seemed like Buffy had barely shut her eyes before she sat up and found Faith standing at the foot of her bed.

“Nice work the other night. Got yourself some vamp marks.”

“Shut up. I survived.” Buffy looked around. “This is a dream.”

“Is it?” Then she shrugged. “Probably.”

“So where are you when you’re not bothering me? Is there fire?” she asked, flashing a fake smile.

“Ouch. Low blow, B.” Faith crossed her arms. “I think—”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“Don’t you? I gotta say, for trying to be the best Slayer, you’re off to a much worse start than me. You got your own vamp honey from day one. And hey, I only screwed mine. I was never on the menu. Well, not willingly, anyway.”

“Shut up. What do you know?”

“I know Angelus loved drawing it out, playing little games.” She smiled. “But I bet William the Bloody also likes a challenge. I bet he likes them kicking and screaming.”

Buffy felt an involuntary chill.

Faith continued with a wide grin. “And what would be better than to have a hand in the making of the best Slayer ever, the perfect opponent? It would make it all the sweeter when he finally—”

Buffy bolted upright in bed. She gasped, her breath coming quickly as her eyes darted around her room, half expecting to see Faith materialize out of the shadows.

“Buffy?” A hand on her shoulder.

She jerked around to find Spike sitting up behind her.

“You don’t want to kill me, you’re not trying,” she blurted in a panic.

“Buffy, wha—”

“Say it, please say it. This isn’t some game to build me up and tear me down.”

“I’d never hurt you.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Never.”

The waking world was slowly coming back into focus. Buffy leaned into him as his arms came up to encircle her.

She took a long breath. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, so she knew Spike could.

“That bad, was it?”

Buffy nodded against him.

“Faith—she said I was worse than her. Because of what I did, what I let you do. And that it was all just a game you were playing, waiting. I’m sorry, I know it’s not—I know you would never. But she made it feel so real, you know? I wasn’t sure if I was awake or asleep.”

“It’s all right, pet. Dreams feel real. Your own mum could be tryin’ to off you in one and you’d believe it.” Spike pressed his lips to her forehead as he gently rocked her. “Never harm you,” he breathed. “Never.”

His next words were so quiet against her skin it almost seemed that she felt rather than heard them. “I love you.”

It was barely a whisper.

Buffy was sure her heart stopped.

Before she could think of what to say, Spike pulled back slightly and looked at her. He ran his hand over her hair. “Just a dream, love,” he said, louder.

There was nothing in his face or his voice that reflected what she’d just heard.

She realized he hadn’t meant to say it—rather, hadn’t meant for her to hear it.

“Just a dream,” she echoed, on automatic.

Buffy remained silent as Spike slowly leaned them down, pulling her to him as he settled back on the pillows. One hand petted her hair, while the other slowly traced over her back.

He didn’t say anything else; if her body was giving off signals, he must have assumed they were leftover from the dream.

But Faith was completely discarded, pushed out of her head by three little words.