Chapter 14: Revelations

Several drinks and much complaining later, they were both sitting on the floor, leaning against Spike’s chair. Spike heard a tinny melody, and at first was convinced it was just in his head, a little tequila-song in his brain. Then he looked over at Buffy, whose head was cocked to the side, as if she was listening as well.

“Whazzat noise?” he asked her.

She looked puzzled for a minute, then her eyes widened with realization. “Phone!” she said, loudly and triumphantly, pulling it out of her pocket. “’S Willow.” She started to answer it, but Spike snatched it out of her hand.

“Best not t’ talk when you’re this hammered. Lord knows what you’d say.” He waited for the phone to stop ringing, then handed it back to her. She fumbled with it for a few moments, then finally got it set on silent and slipped it back into her pocket.

Buffy groped drunkenly for her shot glass, turning the bottle upside down above it. Only a few drops of liquid fell into the glass. “Empty,” she pouted. She drank what little was left then reached for another bottle, nearly toppling over as she did so.

Spike took the bottle out of her hand. “Oh, no. I’m cutting you off.”

She pouted again. “Why?”

He steeled himself against the temptation to take her protruding lower lip into his mouth. “Because I don’t wanna be carryin’ your sorry ass home again’s why.”

Buffy gave him a suggestive smile and leaned closer. “Get me drunk ’nuff an’ you won’ have to,” she said, her voice husky and her words slurred. She started to crawl onto his lap, her hands grasping his black T-shirt. “I’ll stay here… with you.” She pressed her body clumsily against his, her skirt riding up to reveal her slender thighs.

Before he realized what he was doing, his hands were skating down from her hips, seeking out that forbidden soft skin. As his fingers brushed past the hem of her skirt, he came to his senses and gently pushed her off, ignoring the fireworks show that was happening in his lower region. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink.” And so have I, he thought. He pulled her unsteadily to her feet and looked around for her shoes, a part of him cursing his Victorian sense of propriety. “Come on, love, we’re goin' home.”

Buffy gripped Spike’s leather coat as she tottered along, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Spike feared that if he removed his arm, she might go tumbling to the ground.

She gasped. “Demons!” she hissed, pointing ahead of them where, sure enough, two burly, horned demons were tromping down the middle of the street.

“Let’s get you home, kitten. You’re in no condition to fight. I’ll track ’em down later.”

“I can fight. I’m the Slayer!”

Spike winced as her loud declaration caught the attention of the demons, who started lumbering towards them. “Ah, wish you hadn’t said that, pet.” He quickly sized up the situation. He’d have to fight them both himself – Buffy barely had the coordination to walk.

“All right, you stay here an' try not to get in trouble, yeah?” He rolled his eyes and squared off against the demons, only to be laid out flat in ten seconds as one of them punched him.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, picking himself up. These buggers were strong. He glanced around for any kind of weapon. Seizing a stop sign, he pulled it out of the ground and swung it, clocking one of the demons with the octagon.

Buffy, meanwhile, refused to be passive, regardless of her state of inebriation. When the other demon came towards her, she attempted a roundhouse kick, promptly lost her balance, and fell down. Spike spotted her on the ground with the demon towering over her and ripped the metal sign off the pole he was holding. He threw it like a Frisbee, and it neatly decapitated the demon. He then turned around and jabbed the pole into the chest of the demon he’d already hit.

With both demons taken out, he pulled Buffy to her feet. “Let’s go,” he said, angry with himself for putting her in danger when she was practically defenseless. “Now.”

When they finally arrived at the Summers home, Spike was surprised to find the whole gang waiting for them.

“Buffy! We were so worried!” Willow exclaimed, as they all crowded around the late arrivals in the foyer, spilling over into the living room. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“We thought you’d stop by the Magic Box after work to do some more research,” said Tara, from her usual position hovering near Willow’s shoulder.

“I came home and you weren’t here.” This from Dawn, who was pushing her way to the front of the group. “We thought something had happened.”

“What? Like my boss turned out t’ be a demon an’ tried t’ kill me?” Buffy laughed, her words slurring together.

“Where were you, Buffy?” asked Giles, more concerned about her demeanor than her well-being, now that he knew she hadn’t been hurt.

“With Spike,” she replied. Spike started to open his mouth to speak but she interrupted him. “Drinking, with Spike.”

Giles stepped back. “Clearly,” he said, getting a whiff of the alcohol on her breath. “Buffy, this isn’t like you.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“The drinking,” said Willow. “You passed out the other night. And Dawn says you’ve been sneaking in late at night drunk – when you were supposed to have been patrolling.”

“Don’ worry.” Buffy shook her head, then grabbed onto Spike when the room started tilting from side to side. “Sometimes I jus’ stop by, you know, after patrol.”

“This isn’t good, Buff,” said Xander. “Need I remind you of the CaveBuffy incident?”

“That was tolally – total – totally different.” Buffy waved away the suggestion with her hand. “That was beer… beer bad! This is tequila… oh, an’ sometimes bourbon.”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can certainly see the distinction there.”

“No, really,” she insisted. “That beer was spiked by some crazy bartender guy. This is jus’ regular old alcohol… from Spike.” She giggled at her weak play on “spike” but even she knew that she’d have come up with a better pun if she weren’t so drunk.

Spike stepped up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. “Which you’ve been drinking in frighteningly large quantities,” he said, finding courage in the presence of her friends to admit what until then he’d been unable to. “Your friends are right, love. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

Buffy shot him a dirty look to express her displeasure at his betrayal. He was the one supplying the liquor, he should be on her side.

“Is something going on, Buff?” asked Xander.

“It’s jus’ really hard, y’know?” she tried to explain without really explaining. She fell back on her old faithful line. “Readjustin’ t’ life an’ everything. I can’t help ’f I need a li’l escape now an’ then.”

“You always do that!” Dawn burst out.

Buffy screwed up her face questioningly. “Do what?”

“You always act like living is such a burden. Like you can’t even stand to be around us.”

“It is a burden.” Buffy’s voice gained an edge to it and Dawn shrank back, looking at Buffy as if she’d slapped her.

“Buffy, we know that you’ve been through an awful lot,” said Giles. “I can only imagine what it’s like to be in hell –”

At that, Buffy finally snapped. “You don’ know what you’re talkin’ about!” Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or perhaps she’d just grown weary of lying. All she knew was that the words were fighting to come out, so she let them. “I wasn’t in hell, okay? I was in heaven. I was in heaven an’ you pulled me out.”

A stunned silence fell over the group as Buffy’s words sunk in. Willow’s lower lip began to quiver as she fought back tears, Tara hung her head, and Anya covered her mouth in shock. Dawn was so shaken that she sat down on the steps, having lost the ability to stand. Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, knowing he should have realized it sooner.

“Oh, God,” Xander breathed, his voice edged with guilt.

Willow looked from him to Buffy, then to Tara. “What have we done?” she whispered, groping for Tara’s hand and clutching it in hers.

Spike hung back near the front door. As the only one in the room who wasn’t hearing this news for the first time, he felt uncomfortable watching their reactions. He glanced over at Buffy, but stared down at his shoes when she tried to meet his gaze. A sense of guilt pricked at him, wondering if he’d done the right thing by keeping her confidence. They should have known. They should have known from the beginning, so they could help her instead of making things harder. Ashamed as he was to admit it, he felt a fair measure of relief that at least now the secret was out.

“I’m goin’ to bed.” Buffy turned and disappeared up the stairs, showing little concern for her friends, who were reeling from the blow she’d dealt them.

As the rest of the group erupted in concerned murmuring, Spike shot a glare at Willow and muttered, “There’s your soddin’ truth spell.” She stared at him, pain and sorrow etched on her face, until he slipped out the door unnoticed by the others.