Chapter Eleven

Buffy looked at her bleeding arm and back at Spike.  Holding his gaze, she held it out.  “No sense wasting this. Clean it up for me.”

She watched his face as his craving for what she offered fought with his desire to refuse.  When it began to look like his sense of what he had no right to might win, she walked over and held it up to his face. “Come on. This is no different than when you were hurt so badly by the First. I’m going to need you sooner or later, and I know you aren’t going to stay out of it anyway, so I want you as close to healthy as I can get you.”

“Only because it’ll help make me whole,” he insisted, ignoring her rolling eyes and lowering his mouth to her arm. He licked off the blood that had trickled down to her hand, then moved to the wound itself and began to suck gently. He glanced up at her to see if she was all right with the sucking and she nodded.

“For all I know, there’s poison on those claws. Either way, they were filthy. Suck away.”

In spite of her words, he kept his mouth fastened on her wound only long enough to be sure that there was no dirt or poison in it, then he stopped sucking and just licked until it had stopped bleeding. 

“Bandage?”

Buffy tilted her head toward the bathroom and he walked in and picked up the supplies she had already set up. She stared hard as he walked to and from the small room, visibly trying not to limp. She held out her arm and, without comment, he smeared antibiotic cream on it, covered it with a gauze pad held in place with an elastic bandage.  When he’d tucked the ends in, he sighed and looked at her.

“My turn, yeah?  To take care of you, I mean,” he hastened to add.

She just shook her head and turned out the light, climbing into the big bed and holding the covers up for him.  Moving hesitantly, as if expecting her to change her mind any second, he got in beside her and settled on his back, extending one arm out. As if the years since they’d last shared a bed had never elapsed, Buffy settled against him, her head on his chest and one arm across his body.  She started to throw one leg over his, pulling it back when he flinched.

“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot…”

“Slayer… Buffy… if you had any idea how often I’ve dreamed of holding you like this again….” He sighed. “You’d know how unnecessary that apology is.”

She nodded against his chest, saying, “You’d probably be surprised to know how well I get that….  I just don’t want to hurt you.” When he squeezed her a little too tightly, she hissed, “Speaking of hurting…” He relaxed his arm immediately.

“You’re hurt somewhere else?  What’s wrong?”

“Got slammed into a wall by something that looked like an octopus on steroids.  My back is bruised.  It’ll probably be fine by tomorrow, but right now…”

He started to let her go and shifted away. “Maybe we need to leave the happy reunion cuddling until we’re both uninjured.”

“No!” She tightened her grip on his torso, but kept her leg away from his. “We can cuddle. We just have to be… gentle.”

“I can do that, love,” he said resting his arms lightly around her again. “I can do gentle.”

“You probably do it better than I do,” she mumbled, her voice trailing off as her eyes shut and she fell asleep. 

Spike was able to remain awake, enjoying her presence, for only a few more minutes before his own eyes shut and fell into a restorative sleep while slayer blood worked its way through his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was well after noon before the diffused light in the room awakened them.  Buffy found herself on her side, with Spike spooning her from behind.  “Morning, love,” he said, brushing his lips over her hair. 

“Seriously?” she said as she pushed back against the object poking her in the rear. “I’ve got a bad back, and this is all you can think about?”

He gave a soft laugh and hugged her before rolling over onto his back and away from her body. “It’s just morning wood, love. It’ll go away all by itself if I get it away from your luscious arse. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried… just… we haven’t seen each other in so long, and there are demons, and—”

“And I look like a nightmare.  It’s alright, Buffy. Not expecting—”

“It has nothing to do with how you look!  How can you think that?” She sat up and stared at him, her expression flickering between anger and pain.  “Is that what you think of me? That I wouldn’t want you with a few scars? That I wouldn’t still….”

“I’ve seen you flinch, love. Seen the disgust on your face.  It’s alright. I’m—”

“You’re an idiot!” she snapped.  “If you’ve seen me flinch, it was because of the pain I knew caused those scars. And if you saw disgust, it was probably because I was disgusted with myself for letting you see my reaction. And that was when I thought you were just some random vampire.  Do you really think I can’t look past a few scars to the man I….”

She threw her hands in the air and got out of bed. “I’m hurt. You’re hurt. We have demons to fight later tonight. And we need to get to know each other again.  Last night was… nice. It felt right. But being us again is going to take more than just being happy to see each other.”  She glared at him. “And we don’t have the time for it now!”

He cocked his head at her and smiled.  Buffy blinked in surprise. “Why are you smiling? I’m yelling at you!”

“I know,” he said, standing up and walking around the bed to push a stray hair away from her mouth. “And you don’t know how much I’ve missed it.  Now it feels like I’m really home.”

She tried to continue glaring, but finally gave in to the way her mouth kept twitching. She smiled and shook her head. “You are really home,” she said, “in case you haven’t noticed.  And you’re twisted.”

He just raised one eyebrow at her and laughed. “Always have been, love. You used to like that.”

Buffy flushed, turning away. “Then we’re both weird.”

“So, what’s the plan for the day, Slayer?”

“Wake up, eat food, go to the school and see if we know anything more about where these guys are coming from.” She looked up at him. “I don’t suppose you could help us out there?”

He shook his head. “Wish I could, love, but got no idea where I was or how I got there. Took Blue all this time to find me and get me out.”

“Blue?”

His face clouded. “You remember that sweet little girl that worked with Angel’s crew? Fred?”  Buffy frowned and nodded. “I think so. I think we met her when we stopped there after… I think Willow knows her.”

“Not anymore she doesn’t,” he said with a growl. “Wouldn’t come to help – or wasn’t told we needed it. Not clear on that; all I know is Angel asked for some assistance when that Old One started taking over Fred’s body, and he was told to stuff it.” 

“I don’t… why didn’t I hear about that? No one told me Angel called. Or that he needed help.”  She glared at him. “Of course, no one told me you were there, either…”

“I can grovel about that for the rest of our lives, Buffy.  Point is, things between the Council and LA weren’t good that last year; and Fred paid the price.  Blue is what I call the Old One that took her place. Real name’s Illyria.  She’s not Fred, but she did manage to become a part of the group. Hell of a fighter, even if we did have to take away a lot of her power to keep her from exploding and taking LA with her…”

“So that’s how you got out? This… Blue… or Illyria did it?  How? And where can we find her?”

“Dunno, love.” He tried not to stare as Buffy began pulling clothes from drawers and seemed to be about to change right in front of him. “Remember her showing up and breaking me out – I think that dragon got his wings clipped pretty good… but I don’t remember anything about her bringing me here.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Uh, Buffy? That morning wood?  If you don’t want to be looking at it all day,” he gestured at the tent in front of his sweatpants, “I’d probably best take myself out of here before you start changing clothes.”

She blushed and let go of the pajama top she’d been about to strip off over her head.  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about….”

“I’ll just go,” he said, turning to leave.  “Get the coffee started, or something...”

When the sound of his footsteps had faded, Buffy quickly changed into something suitable for a day of researching that could easily segue into a night of fighting.  She went down to the kitchen to find that he’d been as good as his word and the coffee pot was already perking away.

“How are you this morning?” she asked as she fixed a bowl of cereal.

He stood up and hopped on his bad leg, stumbling into the counter after the third hop. “Better,” he growled, “but not 100% yet.” When Buffy looked disappointed, he added, “Haven’t eaten yet, and I’ve got the rest of the afternoon. I’ll be ready by tonight. I promise you.”

She sighed. “I know you want to help, Spike. But think about this from my point of view: right now we’re just fighting random demons as we find them. If you show up, they’re going to swarm us trying to get to you.” Her eyes flew to his. “I’m not letting you go back there.” He met and held her steady gaze, understanding clearly what she was leaving unsaid.

“If it comes to that, love, I wouldn’t expect any less of you.”

“Don’t make me do it,” she said, dropping her eyes to hide the sudden moisture there.  “Don’t make me have to do it.”

“Not planning to, Slayer.  You tell where and when you want me. I promise not to do anything stupid.”

“Ha! We both know that’s a lie,” she said, giving him a shaky smile.

“If that weren’t so true, I’d prob’ly be offended.”

Buffy stood up, draining her cup and putting it in the sink. “Okay, I’m off to see what’s what.  I’ll try to find time to bring you something else to wear, ‘k?”

He looked down at his baggy sweatpants and bare feet. “I’d appreciate that, pet. Not exactly dressed for fighting, am I?”

“You’re not dressed for appearing in public,” she said, pointing to the front of his pants. “Not unless you’re going to put that thing away.”

He laughed. “It’ll go away when you do.  Or, if it doesn’t, I’ll just go up in your bed and have a good wank.”

She looked horrified. “Is that what you’ve been doing every day while I’m not here?”

“Relax, Slayer. Get that ‘you’re going to be dust any second’ look off your face. I was just joshing you.  I admit, I’ve spent some time laying there, just smelling the sheets, but old Bob had too much respect for you to do anything like that in your bed, and I…”

“And you what?”

“And I was too busy marveling over the fact that you were living in my house and sleeping in my bed to even think about it.  Had enough to do wondering how I was going to tell you that I’m me.”

“That’s your bed?”

“Was. Well over 130 years ago, mind, but yes. For much of my life as a human, that was my bed.  And my bedroom,” he added.

“Huh. Well, you let me know if you want it back.”

“It’s yours, love. All bought and paid for. All I want is to be allowed to share it from time to time.” When she glared at him, he hastened to add, “But that’s a talk for another day.  We’ve got demons to kill today. Grrrr, argh!”

“Nice save,” she muttered. “I’ve got to get out of here or the whole day is—”

They both heard the key in the look and turned to stare at the kitchen door. Which opened to admit a tall man carrying a large duffle bag.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Suddenly Spike remembered the familiar scent from the other upstairs bedroom and began to growl.  Buffy put a restraining hand on his arm, saying, “Hi, Xander. I wasn’t expecting you till next week.”

Keeping his gaze on the growling vampire and trying to hide his initial reaction to Spike’s appearance, Xander said, “I heard you had a problem, so I hurried it up a little.  Relax, Fangface. It was just a little I’m-back-in-London humor.”

“You know who he is?” Buffy’s expression said she was seriously rethinking her ability to identify people.

“Went by the compound before I came here,” he said. “Talked to Dawn. She warned me.”  He walked up to Spike and looked into his face. “Bald is a nice look for you,” he said, grinning.  He waited for Spike to acknowledge the male bonding ritual, then stuck out his hand. “Welcome back to the land of the living… so to speak.”

Not to be outdone, Spike replied, “Thought they’d sent you off to the wilds of Africa where you couldn’t be a pain in anyone’s arse?” He shook Xander’s hand. They cleared their throats and backed away, manly amenities dispensed with.

“I suppose this means it’s safe for me to leave. You two aren’t going to try to kill each other or something?”

They each muttered something that sounded like agreement and she left through the same door Xander had entered, saying that she’d be back before dark.

When the door had closed behind her, Spike indicated the coffee pot.

“Coffee?”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!”

“Well, we just got up. It’s morning for us.” Spike took some blood from the refrigerator and poured it into a mug, adding enough coffee to warm it up.

“We just got up?” Xander’s eyebrows were meeting his hairline.

“It’s not like that. Just… was a rough night. Slayer was hurt, didn’t get home till almost dawn, and then had to deal with finding out the stray vamp she’s been sheltering is both somebody she… knows… and the reason the demons are here.”

“So you and she… you’re not… “

“Don’t know what we are,” Spike said, taking his mug from the microwave and putting it to his lips. “We’re not going to worry about it until we get rid of the hell hounds.”  He raised a scarred eyebrow at Xander. “What about you? How long have you been living here?”

“I don’t live here. It’s just a place to stay when I’m in town that isn’t full of hormonal teenage girls with more strength than is good for them. I have my own room upstairs – down the hall from Dawn and Buffy’s.” They drank in silence for a few minutes, then, “So, where do you live?”

Spike nodded his head toward the basement stairs. “My usual place. Back to being the cellar-dweller.”

“Works for me.”  At the rumble Spike couldn’t contain, Xander laughed. “Chill out, Spike.  I got over thinking I had any place in Buffy’s life other than old friend and handyman a long time ago. It worried the hell out of me at first when she bought this place. I was afraid she was just going to stay here and wallow, but she didn’t. She hasn’t exactly moved on, but she hasn’t spent her time reliving the past, either.  After all,” he said with a sly glance at Spike’s face, “Angel’s been dead for years. There’s no reason for her to—”

“Ha, bloody, ha,” Spike snarled. “Not funny, Harris.”

“Yes, it was. You should have seen your face.”

“I’m glad I can’t see my face,” Spike said, standing up and taking his cup to the sink. “Just wish Buffy didn’t have to look at it. I’ll be downstairs. Make yourself at home.”

Xander stared after him. “I think Buffy’s made of tougher stuff than you think she is,” he whispered to the door Spike had shut behind him. 


~~~~~~~~

Buffy walked into Giles’s office, unannounced, saying, “When this is over, we’re going to have a long talk about people asking us for help and being told they’re on their own.”  He looked up from where he’d been looking at something with Willow and frowned. “I don’t… ah, so your vampire has recovered his memories then?”

“Yes,” Buffy said shortly. “It’s Spike…” She looked at Willow. “That’s what you thought you saw, isn’t it? Spike’s soul?”  Willow nodded.  “It’s Spike. Those things have been torturing him since it all went south in LA. This Illyria, whatever she is, rescued him and apparently dumped him on my doorstep.  Would have been nice if she’d attached a note or something to tell me who he was.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not even sure who I’m maddest at. You, for keeping things from me, Spike and Angel for also keeping things from me – even when they needed my help, or the Senior Partners for unleashing these things and letting them take Spike back to their dimension.  Anyway, what do we know?”

“We found the portal,” Willow said eagerly. “It’s not too far from the city, so, if we’re in place tonight when it opens again, maybe we can keep them from coming through.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean the slayers?”

“Well, yeah. But with backup from the Coven. We’re going to try some spells to see if we can close it up and keep it closed.”

“Sounds like a plan. Where and when?” As soon as Willow had told her where they needed to be, Buffy nodded and left the room without saying another word to Giles.

“Is she saying that Angel asked for help, and you didn’t tell anybody? Why did he need help? With what?”  She thought for a second, then remembered what had happened to her friend.  “Illyria?  He called you when the Old One was trying to kill Fred, and you didn’t tell anybody?”

“He was working for the ultimate in evil, Willow.” Giles rubbed his forehead. “I made the best decision I could make at the time.  We didn’t trust him. Buffy didn’t trust him. There seemed no reason to tell anyone he had called.”

“Uh huh. I’ve got to go. Witches to round up and spells to practice…”

Willow left the office, leaving an aging watcher to contemplate the ways in which he’d let down the people who depended upon him.