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Shadows of a Brighter Day by Eowyn315
 
Surprises
 
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Chapter 6: Surprises

Spike woke up alone.

Reaching a hand over to Buffy’s side of the bed, he found it cold and vacant. She never used to be there when he woke up – on the rare occasions when she allowed herself to fall asleep with him rather than running out right afterwards – except for that first time… and, strangely, the last time. Somehow, he felt like he should’ve known, should’ve seen the end coming, because of that one simple coincidence.

For a brief moment, the familiar memories surfaced and panic seized him, until he remembered that it was her house, and she’d have to kick him out if she wanted to get rid of him. Extending his senses, he could hear her puttering around in the kitchen, and he relaxed, easing his tensed muscles into a languid stretch. Realizing that, despite the early hour, she didn’t intend to come back to bed, Spike dragged himself up and into the shower.

He was just stepping out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair, when Buffy appeared in the hallway.

“You’re up,” she said, taking in his wet, naked form with a smile. He hadn’t bothered to wrap a towel around his waist, and beads of moisture clung to his skin.

“An’ I smell like a pansy.”

Suppressing a giggle, Buffy stepped closer, running her hands over his chest as she took in a deep breath. “Mmm. I believe that’s lilac.”

“Manliest thing I could find in there,” Spike replied, nodding his tousled head toward the bathroom. “You know you don’t own a single bottle of shampoo that doesn’t smell like a flower?”

“That’s not true,” she pouted. “Some of them are fruity.”

Spike snorted, dropping the towel on the floor and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. “Feelin’ the need to prove my masculinity, Slayer. Help a bloke out, would you?”

His hands slid up under the hem of her tank top as his head dipped to meet hers in a kiss. Within moments, his eager erection was pressing against her stomach, and one hand was trying to pull her shorts down while the other teased her nipple into a peak.

“Spike, no,” Buffy said, disengaging herself from his roaming hands. “You need to get dressed.” It was hard to turn him down when he was naked and wet and sexy, but Xander would be over with Joy any minute, and she didn’t think they would appreciate it as much as she did. “I made pancakes.”

“I can eat pancakes naked,” Spike insisted, catching her around the waist and pulling her into the bedroom and down onto the bed with him. “Though I’d prefer…” He lifted her top and pressed kisses along her stomach. “…licking syrup off your…”

“No,” Buffy repeated firmly. “Come on, get dressed.”

Spike pouted. “Do I have to?”

“Unless you’d like to be naked when you meet my daughter,” Buffy replied, pushing him off and climbing off the bed. “And, frankly, I think she’s gonna have enough to talk about in therapy without that scarring childhood trauma, so, yeah… I’m thinking pants.”

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Spike beckoned her closer. When she relented and stood in front of him, he snaked his arms around her waist and gave her a chaste kiss. “For the purity of innocent child eyes, I will put on pants,” he vowed, his accent taking on a mockingly formal William quality as his crystal blue eyes fixated on hers and held her gaze very seriously. “But you must promise to take them off me as soon as the little bit’s not looking.”

Buffy couldn’t help it; she burst into giggles and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder as she shook with laughter. When she was able to catch her breath, she replied, “Just wait ’til naptime.”

A saucy grin spread across Spike’s face. “Deal.”

*****

“So, when exactly did you learn to cook?” Spike asked, in between mouthfuls of pancakes. “Because, from the stories Bit told…”

“Hey!” Buffy swatted him with the spatula she’d used to flip the pancakes. “That is completely and utterly… probably true.” She pouted. “I’ve improved a lot over the years, I’ll have you know… Child to feed and all that.”

“It’s delicious, pet,” he assured her, giving her a sweet, sticky kiss.

“Sorry I don’t have any blood,” she said, knowing that, delicious or not, pancakes weren’t exactly his primary means of sustenance.

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” Spike raised his eyebrows. “In fact, if you did, I’d wonder what other vamps you’ve been entertaining here.”

Buffy ran her fingertips self-consciously over her throat. “You could –”

“No,” Spike cut her off immediately, refusing to even consider the idea of taking her blood. “Not an emergency, love. I can wait.” He pulled her down for a fierce, passionate kiss, effectively changing the subject.

Before the single kiss could spiral into another lusty groping session, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a familiar male voice calling, “Buff?”

“That’s Xander,” Buffy told him unnecessarily, as though Spike wouldn’t recognize him after ten years. “In the kitchen,” she called back.

“Nervous?” Spike asked her, studying her face for signs of unease. Telling her friends about him had always been one of the hardest obstacles for her.

“About Xander? Nah.” She smiled. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Morning, Buff,” Xander said, stepping into the kitchen with Joy in his arms, her golden head resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. “Think this midget belongs to you. She didn’t get much sleep last night, so she’s still pretty out of it.”

He looked at Spike, completely unflustered by the vampire’s presence, and nodded a greeting. “Spike.”

“Harris,” Spike returned, rising from his seat at the kitchen table. Xander extended his hand as soon as he’d passed Joy off to her mother, and Spike blinked in surprise before taking it. Buffy left the kitchen to lay her sleeping daughter down in her bed, leaving the two men in awkward silence.

“Guess she must’ve found you last night,” Xander said, breaking the ice with a smile.

Spike raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. Uh, you knew…?”

“I was here when she first got back. By the time I made it out to the living room, you’d already split.”

Spike was silent, digesting that information. That explained the man’s coat he had seen last night – the final straw that had driven him out in the first place. All these years, and he’d still almost let himself be foiled by Xander Harris.

“So… how’ve you been?” Spike asked, not at all certain how to have a conversation with this new, civil Xander, given their history.

“Good,” Xander replied. “I figure Buffy filled you in on what we’ve all been up to.”

Spike nodded. “Some. We, ah, didn’t have a whole lot of time for, uh… but she told me the basics.”

Xander gave him a friendly smirk. “She didn’t mention that I stopped hating you about ten years ago, did she?”

“No… no, she, uh, didn’t mention that.” Spike rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Relax, man.” Xander clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him closer so he could lower his voice. “You really think I could be there through her grief and not figure out what you meant to her? Dude, you saved the frickin’ world. Long as you make her happy…”

Spike nodded again, accepting the other man’s words as a gift of grace. He knew that Xander had had a lot of time to think and mature, but he still found the difference remarkable.

Xander spared a glance toward the doorway, as though expecting Buffy to return, and said confidentially, “Just… don’t hurt her, okay? She’s… she’s fragile, you know? More than you’d think, and she –”

“I know.”

Something in the way he said it made Xander realize that Spike understood with perfect clarity the situation he was stepping into.

“You – you know about –?”

Spike nodded. “Red filled me in… ’s why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” Xander said with sincerity. “Sorry it had to happen this way.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Spike replied, shaking his head. “Can’t help loving her, can I? Even when it gets…” He clenched his jaw, fighting a fierce inner battle to regain control of his emotions. Finally, with a regretful sigh, he said, “Just wish I’d come back sooner, you know?”

Xander put a hand on his shoulder again. “So does she.” Seeing Spike’s curious gaze, he added, “She’d never say it, but it was killing her, knowing how much time she wasted. Knowing there might not be –”

“Hey!” Buffy interrupted cheerfully, coming back into the kitchen. “You guys aren’t making friends, are you? ’Cause that might just blow my mind.”

“What, with that wanker?” Spike said, with a jerk of his thumb, switching gears from the serious conversation the moment she walked in. “Wouldn’t even bother to eat him, let alone socialize with him.”

“Yeah, I still got a stake with your name on it, Evil Dead,” Xander teased back.

“Much better,” Buffy said with a smile. “This is all very comforting and familiar. Xand, can I get you some pancakes or something?”

“Just coffee if you’ve got it, thanks.”

They sat around the kitchen table, the three of them chatting like old friends, and Spike couldn’t help thinking that this was perhaps more remarkable than anything they’d done the night before. He’d always suspected the love was there, if he just dug deep enough, pushed Buffy hard enough – an idea that had gotten him into plenty of trouble, sure, but it didn’t make it any less true – but this kind of acceptance was something he’d never really anticipated.

When Xander finally left, Buffy barely had time to rinse out his coffee mug before Joy came toddling into the kitchen, rubbing at her tired eyes with her tiny fists.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

“Sit down at the table, sweetie. I’ll get you some pancakes.”

As Buffy nuked the leftover pancakes in the microwave, Joy climbed up onto a chair and sat across the table from Spike, peering at him curiously. “Hi,” she said, her head tilted to the side as she studied him.

Spike returned her gaze, charmed. “’lo there, Bit.”

“Joy, this is my friend, Spike,” Buffy explained, setting a plate down in front of her and taking the seat next to Joy in order to cut up the pancake for her.

“Is he from the before time, like Uncle Xander?”

“Yeah, he is.” When Spike gave her an inquiring look, she told him, “She means, you know, Sunnydale. When I was the Slayer.”

Spike raised his eyebrows. “You tell her about that?”

“No.” Buffy shook her head. “Just that Mommy fought bad guys, and her friends used to help.”

“Used to?”

Buffy glanced down at Joy’s plate, unsure why she was embarrassed to admit she wasn’t a full-time Slayer anymore. “I’m sort of – retired. I just go out occasionally, you know, for fun. To let off some steam.” She looked back up at Spike. “Xander’s actually retired, too. He’s got his own construction business. But, you know, living with Becca and all, he’s still a little involved.”

Spike just nodded at her rambling. “When did that happen? You retiring, I mean.”

“When Joy was born. I mean, I haven’t really… slayed full time since Sunnydale. I took some time off at first, in Rome.” She made a face. “Technically, I was recruiting Slayers, but… Dawn needed someplace to go to school, and I just…”

“Needed a place to rest?” Spike offered.

“Needed a place to hide.”

“From what?” he asked softly.

“Everything,” Buffy said with a sigh. “I just… didn’t want to face it anymore, not without you.” She glanced up and met his eyes with a sad smile. “And it was easy, you know, not being the only one anymore. I could just ignore it all, pretend I was someone else.”

“Never could figure why you picked Rome,” Spike replied. “Didn’t seem like you… but now I think I’m getting it.”

“What?” She looked at him quizzically.

“’S comforting, innit?” When she still didn’t seem to get it, he added dryly, “That city is the world’s biggest crypt. Bet you felt right at home.”

A discerning smile crossed Buffy’s face. “Yeah. Anyway, after I heard you were dead, you know, the second time… I left everything and came back to England. Giles put me to work training the new Slayers, and that’s what I did until Joy came along.”

“Left… everything?” Spike prodded.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Spike.” She tried to maintain a serious expression, but it was a lost cause. “I left the Immortal because I was so upset that you died again. Happy?”

“Very,” he said with a satisfied grin.

Nervously, Buffy began playing with the edge of a placemat. “What about – what about you? I mean, were there… others?”

Spike let out a deep sigh and raked a hand through his messy curls. “Not gonna lie, pet. Haven’t exactly been a monk. There were women, yeah, but none of ’em ever meant to me what you…” He trailed off, dropping his gaze to his lap.

He had been a drifter, never setting down roots anywhere long enough to make connections, but occasionally, he’d find a woman who was drawn in by the striking features, the leather, and the mysterious nature. A woman who pushed past the innocent flirting to engage the dangerous stranger who haunted the local bar. He’d stay with them for a couple weeks at a time, at most, before picking up and moving on without a goodbye, never letting himself get close enough to lose his heart. He knew what that would lead to, and he knew he could never replace Buffy, nor did he want to.

“That’s… that’s fair,” Buffy said slowly.

Slouching back in his chair, Spike sighed again, this time with a note of disgust. “God, pet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We weren’t… You shouldn’t…”

“I know that, ’s just… feel like I shoulda known better, you know? Knew the whole time there’d never be anyone for me but you, and I still couldn’t put my damn pride away and come find you until…”

He stopped himself, but Buffy caught the expression on his face. “Until what, Spike?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Until now.”

“Spike?” Buffy said, a growing sense of dread forming in the pit of her stomach. “You never said… before, you said you came here to talk, but we never really… did we? Talk about it?”

“Don’t worry about that, love. It’s not important anymore.”

“Yes, it is. Why are you here, Spike?” she asked, her voice wavering, certain now she knew what his answer would be. “Why now?”

“You know why, Slayer,” he told her reproachfully. “Willow tracked me down.” He paused and took a deep, steadying breath.

“She told me about the cancer.”

*****

A/N: And on that happy note, I'm going on vacation... (sorry!) See you all in a week.
 
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