Chapter 3: The Morning After (pt 1)

Willow and Tara were sleeping, curled up in each other’s arms on the sofa, the remnants of the party scattered around them. Giles, Xander and Anya had gone home a few hours earlier, and Dawn was safe in bed. Buffy had slipped out for air and never returned, causing her friends some concern, though it was certainly nothing new. Since she’d been back, she had developed a habit of withdrawing to her room or going off patrolling without telling anyone. When she turned up later, she never apologized for her abrupt disappearances, and when questioned about them, she gave excuses like “I was just tired” or “I felt like killing something” that never quite satisfied her friends.

They expected no different tonight and so, once half the honored guests had made an unannounced exit, the party quickly dispersed, in disappointment for those who recognized the behavior, confusion for those who didn’t. After sending Dawn upstairs, the two witches had settled on the couch to wait up for Buffy – or at least try to. She was perfectly able to take care of herself, they knew, but it didn’t hurt to make sure she came home safely.

The front door opened and Tara started awake. She looked up to see Spike carrying the Slayer’s prone form in his arms.

“Willow! Wake up!” Tara said in a loud whisper, nudging her lover out of dreamland.

“What is – Oh!” Willow jumped up when she saw Spike and Buffy. “What happened to her?”

“Shhh. She’s fine, she’s just pissed. Had a bit of a bender and then passed out in my crypt, figured I’d bring her home.”

“Oh.” Willow wasn’t exactly sure what a bender was, but context clues told her Buffy was drunk.

“Thanks,” Tara added.

Spike nodded towards the stairs. “I’ll just take her on up to bed then.” He fixed the witches with a hardened look they didn’t understand, almost as if he blamed them for something, before turning and taking Buffy upstairs.

*****

When Buffy awoke the next morning, the daylight seemed harsher than usual. She sat up in bed, only to flop back down with the onset of a terrible pounding in her skull. She covered her face with the covers and moaned. What on earth had she been thinking last night? She didn’t even like bourbon.

As her thoughts gradually became more linear, she realized she was in her own bed. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was drinking in Spike’s crypt. Brilliant idea, Slayer, she thought to herself. Get all drunk and vulnerable with the vampire. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow in disgust.

As another horrifying thought entered her throbbing brain, she lifted her head out of the pillow in alarm. Drunk and vulnerable. She wasn’t dead, so clearly Spike hadn’t wanted to kill her. But he might have had other ideas. She knew how he felt about her, and with the whole soulless moral-deficiency thing, she wouldn’t put it past him to take advantage of her while she was intoxicated.

Buffy rolled over onto her back and peeked under the covers to take stock of herself. She was wearing her yummy sushi pajama bottoms and the tank top she’d had on last night. That meant someone had changed her pants. Spike? Or Willow, when she got home. How had she gotten home?

She tried to think through the fuzziness that was her brain. She didn’t feel violated. She was almost certain that if he’d done anything, she’d be able to tell.

When the queasy feeling in her stomach had calmed a bit, she managed to drag herself out of bed and down to the kitchen, where Willow was waiting to greet her with the appropriate sober-roommate sympathy. “How are you feeling?”

She tried to mask her concern for Buffy behind her understanding smile. In truth, she was worried about her friend. Drinking until she passed out – that wasn’t normal Buffy behavior. At least, it hadn’t been before the whole death-and-resurrection thing. Willow feared that the horrors of hell had left a deeper scar on Buffy’s psyche than any of them had realized. She could only hope that this was a one-time, get-it-out-of-her-system kind of thing – drink herself to oblivion, forget the months of torment, and then get on with the business of putting her life back together.

Buffy just groaned in response and set about getting herself a glass of water, hoping to get rid of the furry taste in her mouth.

“Aspirin?” Willow gestured to the counter where she’d laid out two pills, anticipating Buffy’s need.

Buffy smiled and swallowed them thankfully. “So… what exactly… I mean, how did…”

“Spike brought you home. Do you remember going to his crypt?”

“I remember bourbon.”

“He said you passed out.”

Buffy closed her eyes in embarrassment. “Did he say anything else?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t think he…”

“Tried anything? No, he wouldn’t,” Willow said. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, comforted by her friend’s confidence, and at the same time feeling guilty for her earlier suspicions. Spike was evil, yeah, but he wasn’t… evil. She only had a patchy recollection of the previous night’s encounter, but from everything she could remember, Spike had been a perfect gentleman… even when she hadn’t been quite so well behaved herself.

Before she could continue the conversation, Dawn burst in through the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.

Buffy winced and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Loud.”

“What’s the matter with her?” Dawn dropped her bag on the breakfast bar and headed for the refrigerator.

“Buffy had a rough night,” said Willow.

Dawn raised her eyebrows and inspected her older sister. “Is she hung over?”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Buffy countered, to avoid answering the question.

Dawn closed the refrigerator, soda in hand, and made a face at her. “It’s Saturday.” She turned back to Willow. “She ditched the party to go out drinking last night, didn’t she?”

Willow nodded. “With Spike.”

Dawn’s expression completely changed, a smile creeping onto her face. “Seriously?”

“Dawnie, you really wanna talk very quietly, okay?” Buffy pleaded.

“Yeah, sorry.” Dawn was no longer paying attention to her sister as she headed into the living room to plop herself in front of the TV, still thinking about Spike. She was glad that the two of them were spending time together. It was almost like a date. A kind of dysfunctional date, but still, better than nothing.

Dawn had had a crush on Spike for a long time, but the two of them really bonded after they lost Buffy. He’d been her best friend that summer, and in a lot of ways, the only thing that kept her going after losing her mom and sister so close together. She could tell that she was the only thing that kept him going, too. She’d come to know all too well the haunted look that meant he was contemplating a walk in the sunshine. But he never did it, because he’d made a promise to protect her, and he clung to it desperately – the only meaning he could find in an unlife without Buffy. He’d loved her so much – even if Buffy didn’t realize, Dawn did. She only wished Buffy had figured it out before she died, then they might have had a real relationship.

After her sister’s death, Dawn sometimes entertained little fantasies about Spike falling in love with her when she grew up – discovering he could love the younger Summers even though he’d lost the elder, kind of how Laurie ended up marrying Amy after Jo turned him down. But with Buffy back, Dawn would gladly settle for Spike as the big brother figure who was dating her sister. Now all she needed was for Buffy to realize they were perfect for each other.