Chapter 10 - Revelations

Buffy woke up dizzy. She was in her car, but she wasn’t driving. She didn’t remember getting there, either.

“You’re almost home, love.”

“Spike?”

Everything seemed blurry. Someone grabbing her, Spike fighting…

“The men…?”

“In a world o’ pain.”

A few minutes later, they were in her driveway. Spike opened the garage with the remote on the visor and pulled inside. Buffy started fumbling with her seat belt, finding it strangely hard to get a grip on. Before she could undo it, Spike was at her door himself. He unbuckled the belt and lifted her into his arms.

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t. You’re still groggy, pet.”

“Fine,” she huffed as he carried her in the house. “Mm, your hands are cold.” Buffy managed to put her arm around his neck as they went upstairs. “And your face is cold. And your eyes are really blue. I mean, really, really blue.”

“Is that right?” Spike nudged open the door to her room with his shoulder.

“What about not coming in my room?”

“Special circumstances,” he said, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. He laid her down on the bed and turned to leave.

Then she spoke.

“Don’t go.” Her barely audible plea stopped him.

Spike sat down on the edge of the bed. As if to justify his continued presence, he turned and began unlacing her old-fashioned shoes, tossing them on the floor. Then he removed the fan and purse from around her wrist and peeled away her gloves.

He had told her she’d looked good. But she had looked bloody gorgeous. Her hair curled, her fancy dress flowing around her. The style was a little before his time, perhaps, but Buffy had looked small and feminine.

Spike had figured he might as well dance with her as not. Not like he’d had anything better to do.

Her arm suddenly twitched as she tried to lift it. With some effort, she reached up into the air for a moment before her hand dropped.

“Why can’t I move?” she asked weakly. “Everything feels so heavy.”

“Whatever drug they jabbed you with, I expect. It’ll wear off.”

“I was so scared,” she said in a whisper.

“I won’t let anything happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just am.” He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

“Can you take Mom’s necklace off me?”

She would ask him that, wouldn’t she?

Spike leaned in and carefully turned the necklace around, unhooking it and slowly pulling it off before setting it on the nightstand. His hand lingered on her neck, feeling the pulse beneath the skin, and Spike realized how close to her he still was. He might have moved closer as his gaze drifted from her neck to her face.

Buffy slowly tilted her head, causing her lips to brush against his. Spike instinctively deepened the kiss—she was so soft, so warm against him. Then he froze, pulling away and standing up.

“Get some rest, pet.”

The door shut behind him.

-----

Several hours later, Buffy woke up. She slowly got out of bed and went into her bathroom. She realized she was still wearing her dress. Changing out of the costume, she put on a pair of pajama pants and a baggy shirt.

The clock read 4:13 a.m.

Buffy opened her door and crept down the hall, meaning to go to the kitchen. However, when she saw the light on under Spike’s door, she paused. As she stood in the hallway debating on whether or not to knock, the door suddenly opened.

“Buffy.”

“Yeah. Um, can we talk?”

Spike stepped back and gestured for her to come in. He shut the door behind her and went back to sprawl on the couch. Buffy perched on the arm. He was still fully dressed in jeans and a black shirt, she noticed. His hair was combed back, but somewhat rumpled from being gelled up earlier.

Spike muted the TV. “So, pet.”

“Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“Didn’t know if you’d want to.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I should, but…”

“When they came in, your mum asked about you. I said you were asleep.” He shrugged. “You all right?”

“Yeah, great. You know, what with the grabbing and drugging and all.” She met his eyes and quietly said, “By the way, thank you.”

“Was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t. You were—” she paused, as a hazy memory hit her. Spike moving unnaturally fast, dispatching the men with practiced ease.

“Love?”

“Amazing,” she finished.

There was a short silence before he sighed slightly.

“Look, the other day I heard your dad on the phone. He owes someone money.”

“Um, not in a good way, I’m guessing.”

“And earlier I got a name outta one of the blokes in the parkin’ lot.”

“What? They just like told you?”

Spike gave her a hard look.

“Oh.” Then, “There’s a connection.”

He nodded. “Someone knew you’d be there tonight.”

She didn’t know what to think about that—actual evidence that her father probably did know who was after her. That it was maybe even because of him. This was so much worse than him not saying he’d been sent photos of her.

She didn’t want to think about it.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Buffy stood. “Well, I’m gonna grab a bite to eat and then try and get some more sleep. Class tomorrow and all.”

-----

Buffy sat in Psychology, irritated. She was clicking her pen and not paying attention at all to the lecture.

The day had not been good from the start. Whatever had been done to her last night caused her to oversleep and miss her first class. Also, her car was on empty, so she’d had to stop for gas on the way. Then the machine had repeatedly refused her bankcard and she didn’t have enough cash, so she’d had to borrow thirty dollars from Spike.

And of course, then there was Spike.

She thought he would have said something last night. Or this morning. Or anytime they had been alone. They had kissed, dammit. And now he was being all avoidy. Buffy glanced behind her, narrowing her eyes. You would think someone his age wouldn’t still have these sort of awkward issues.

She was so talking to him when they got home.

-----

“Well?”

“Well what?” Spike asked her.

Buffy tossed her purse in her own room and turned to Spike, pinning him with her gaze as he tried to slink unnoticed into his.

“We kissed.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “’bout that. Sorry, I shouldn’t ’ve.”

“I kissed you.”

He arched a brow. “You’d been drugged, love.”

So that’s why he hadn’t said anything. “I wasn’t out of my mind,” she said. “I wanted to kiss you. I might want to now.”

Buffy walked down the hall, stopping when she was facing him.

“It wouldn’t work, pet.”

“Because you’re older? Because you’re working for us? You won’t be forever.”

“Buffy…”

She looked up at him. “What? Am I totally misreading everything?”

He was silent.

“Then tell me what the problem is.”

Spike looked torn between saying something or escaping into his room. As Buffy looked at him, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. Hanging crossways on the hall wall was a piece that someone had given her mother. The background was a piece of mirrored glass with gilded flowers and vines running over its surface, and it had an enameled geisha girl with a parasol on one side. The whole thing was more art than mirror, but there was no question that she was the only one reflected in it.

Spike saw the expression on her face change, and he glanced over his shoulder to see what she was looking at.

Buffy was staring at the mirror, her eyes darting back and forth between it and Spike.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demanded. “What, are you a vampire or something?”

Buffy meant it as a rhetorical question. It was the only thing she could think of, having a vague remembrance from movies that vampires didn’t have reflections. However, when he didn’t deny her ridiculous outburst, when he didn’t ask if she was crazy—when she saw the look on his face, her eyes grew wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “No.”

In a burst of rational denial, she tore across the hall and pulled the mirror off the wall, looking for any sign that it was something other than an ordinary mirror. Dissatisfied, she grabbed Spike’s wrist and pulled him bodily down the hall. He didn’t offer any resistance.

She led him through her room and into her bathroom, stopping before the sink.

She was the only one in the mirror.

Turning with a mixture of abject horror and disbelief on her face, Buffy stared at him. He looked for all the world like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t quite sure what. She saw his hand move slightly.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “Get out!”

Buffy gave his shoulders a hard shove and locked the door after him. Then she slumped down against the cabinets, feeling the cold tile of the floor against her skin.