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PREVIOUSLY: Spike had this feeling that
he'd done something that upset Buffy, so he ordered lots of
flowers. Xander and Anya arrived at the same time as the delivery
driver. Buffy and Willow had locked the front door when they
went to the video store. Xander didn't recognise the cowled
figure that opened the door and thought Spike was an intruder
so he activated the Orbs of Nezzla Khan which he had been carrying
on him, but had originally kept separated. The situation seemed
to be diffused until Xander heard the florist mention charging
Spike for his regular order, and accused Spike of cheating on
Buffy. Knowing Xander was invulnerable, Spike lashed out verbally
and stomped off to Buffy's room. Buffy and Willow arrived back
just in time to catch the end of Spike's tirade. She went to
go after him, but Xander grabbed her arm trying to explain Spike's
duplicity. Buffy told Xander to get his mind out of the gutter
and pulled free going after Spike.
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CHAPTER 4.07
Buffy knocked on her own room door, before she
pushed it slowly open. As she'd expected, she was greeted by a waft
of cigarette smoke. Spike was prowling round the room like a caged
tiger on speed.
"Hey," she said in a soft voice. He turned to face
her, his eyes automatically softening, but she could see he was
still fighting the rage within him. She walked over to her dresser
and pulled open one of the drawers to take out a ceramic ornament.
"Catch," she said as she tossed it in his direction. "In case you
feel the need to smash something."
He hefted the statuette in his hand checking its
weight and balance before he actually looked at it and saw what
she didn't like about it. A big strong Fred was carrying a seemingly
grateful Daphne to safety in the best Scooby Doo tradition. Anger
faded into amusement and his eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch.
"Present from soldier boy?"
"You guessed it." She swayed over to him.
"Not in the mood for smashing stuff now, but if
you want I could do it as a public service."
"We can save it ...for the next time Xander acts
like a total ass." She took the offending article from him and sat
it on the dresser. Then she took the half-smoked cigarette from
his hand and dropped it into the remains of her mocha from earlier.
"So, other than implying that my mom was some two-bit
ho that you were sneaking around with behind my back, what else
did he say to get you that worked up?" Buffy asked.
"Wha'? How?"
"Just because you don't leave a card doesn't mean
I haven't got a brain. I know Dawn doesn't get enough allowance
to pay for fresh flowers every week. I knew it wasn't me and if
Dad had been that thoughtful they wouldn't have been divorced in
the first place.
I had my suspicions for a while, but after Saturday
I was sure. I've been in your head, remember."
"S'pose, and yeah, that was pretty much it," Spike
conceded.
"Why didn't you ever leave a card?"
"'Cause if I did Harris would probably have staked
me. Him and Red all but physically chucked me off the property when
I tried to leave flowers outside the house after. Said Joyce meant
nothing to me and the only reason I bothered was to try to get in
your knickers. As long as I didn't put my name on the card, it'd
never occur to him that it might be me. Not the sort of thing an
evil soulless git would do, not in his book, anyway."
"God, Spike, I'm sorry. I didn't know," Buffy apologised.
"If I'd known... I mean, back then, I didn't get the thing between
you and mom. But I got that there was a thing that I didn't get."
"Ancient history, pet. Don't worry 'bout it." His
hands came up to cradle her neck, thumbs brushing her jaw-line as
he tilted his head to come in for a kiss. Her hands fisted in the
front of his sweatshirt as she pulled him toward her. He tasted
of smoke and mints and she lost herself in him until he pulled her
tight against him.
"Ah. Ow." She pushed away from him to get a look
at her forearm, which had been crushed between them. His gaze followed
her own to where a large handprint showed a livid darkening purple
just above her wrist.
"Spike, no. Don't," but it was too late, Spike
was already out the door and running down the stairs, leaving Buffy
to trail behind.
"Harris, you bastard..."
"Will, don't. It was an accident."
"Bollocks, accident. You don't get bruises like
that accidentally."
Spike hauled a stunned looking Xander up off the
couch by his shirt front, before sending him back into it with a
nose-breaking punch, which in turn caused the headache that brought
the vampire to his knees in a screaming heap.
Xander rose to his feet again, wiping away a stream
of blood from his nose but Buffy managed to get between the two
before Xander could make a move on the vampire. Willow meanwhile
rushed to shut the curtains in the room to prevent the now smouldering
member of the undead community from bursting into flames, a situation
he seemed to be only just becoming aware of. He pulled up the hood
on the sweatshirt and let the material fall over his hands, but
still he struggled to rise to his feet, his eyes a swirl of midnight
blue and golden fire.
"Xander, just tell him it was an accident. You
forgot you had the orbs, right?"
For a second, Xander stood there bemused by what
was going on, but then Buffy's words penetrated his brain and his
gaze moved from her face to the arm she held extended to keep him
back from the vampire.
All of a sudden Xander fled for the front door
of the house, yanking it open and falling to his knees on the front
porch as his lunch and a packet of Cheetos made a reappearance.
"I know Giles wanted you to hit Xander, Spike,
but I think making his nose bleed and making him throw up his lunch
is a bit much," Anya surveyed the scene as she returned from the
kitchen with a beer in either hand.
Spike merely pulled himself to his feet and took
one of the open beers from her hand. "Ta, pet. I don't think your
other half is going to be wanting one just yet."
"Spike!"
"What?" The vampire turned to look at the former
ex-vengeance demon.
"They were both for me," she said, looking distinctly
put out by the fact that Spike had now drunk at least half of the
bottle in one pouring motion.
It was only Spike's vampiric hearing that let him
catch Janice's comment from the top of the stairs.
"I don't know why you come to mine to watch Jerry
Springer when your house is like this."
Buffy looked at the chaos surrounding her. "Will,
Anya, you two want to check on Xander? I'm going to take Blondie
here upstairs and try to find some migraine tablets. Dawn, you and
Janice, back in your room or you can clean up the porch."
"That's so not fair. Xander made the mess,"
pouted Dawn, but went back to her room regardless.
"Tablets'll wear off too quick for it to be worth
takin' them, pet." Spike sat on the edge of the bath while Buffy
ransacked the bathroom cupboard for headache pills.
"What makes you think they're for you? Maybe it's
the thought of you and Xander in the same house that's giving me
a headache," Buffy teased.
"Sorry if I upset you, love."
"But not the least bit sorry for hitting Xander,
I suspect."
Spike gave a small chuckle before replying, "no,
can't say as I am. Even if it wasn't deliberate, he's still got
to be responsible for how he uses those things."
"Well, I think he realises his mistake now, so
leave it alone, okay?"
"'Kay. Are you okay? Your arm I mean. It is just
a bruise?"
"I'll be fine... Nothing that won't sort itself out
in a day or two. So, are you going to tell me why there's half a
florists shop downstairs," Buffy prodded.
"'Cause I told her not to bother with the stuff
you would need to find a vase for?"
"Funny. Spill."
"You seemed sort of ...edgy, before, and I didn't
know if it was something I'd done, or maybe didn't do, or whether
you were working up to telling me something or what, but I figured
a pleasant surprise wouldn't do any harm, whatever. Enter Harris
and the whole thing goes to hell."
"If you did something wrong, then we both
did." She closed the bathroom cabinet and took a seat next to Spike,
her attention apparently focussed on her most recent footwear acquisition.
"I can't say I felt entirely comfortable with the idea we can't
keep our hands off each other, even when Dawn's two feet away."
"You're uncomfortable." Spike snorted, not noticing
Buffy's answering glare. "Scares me shitless ...but it's a good scared.
It's part of how we're right together." He reached
over and took her unresisting hand in his. "I don't ever want to
look at you across a room and not want you.
But, I don't want you wandering around all day
guilt-ridden 'cause we had a quickie with the Niblet next door either,
so if we find ourselves in a similar situation I'll try to have
a bit more self-control ...not that I'm makin' any guarantees, 'cause
you know you're irresistible, right?"
"Hmpf, tell that to your predecessors. And who
are you to talk, Mr Sexy-Swagger Eyes-to-Die-For Energiser-Bunny
Vampire? But we try, next time rather than just give in."
Before she could work out quite how he did it,
he'd scooped her up into his lap and put a chaste kiss on her lips.
"So is that it? Or did I piss you off when I asked you to wait to
claim me, as well?"
"Not piss-off, not exactly." Buffy kept her eyes
focussed on the dip at the base of his throat.
He kept his voice soft, trying to coax her out.
"Then what exactly?"
"I... the way you want it. I can't do it." She flicked
a glance over his face trying to gauge his response, only to find
his expression so deliberately neutral that she knew he was masking
his feelings. "I mean, I want to do it. It's just all the blood
stuff, not a turn on. I want to have the bond, but the idea of biting
you and drinking your blood, and is it even your blood, or
is it just the pig blood that you had for dinner?"
He smiled softly. "It's my blood. Otherwise you
would have people turning themselves by slaughtering innocent pigs...
So what do you want to do?"
"I think I want to do it, but it can't be all moonlight
and roses and soft seduction. It's not a sensual thing for me. It's
got to be all endorphins and adrenaline."
"You're saying if I want you to claim me, it'll
have to be during a good hard shag?"
She nodded her head against his chest.
"Pet, that's okay. Like you say, maybe not exactly
what I had in mind, but it's not like we can't have the gentler
stuff after, is it?"
She didn't answer him in so many words, but her
hands wrapped themselves around his neck and she shifted against
him till there was no gap between their bodies, letting her cheek
rest against his shoulder. And they stayed like that until they
heard Tara at the front door.
"Glinda."
"Hey, guys."
"Hey, Tara."
The blonde pair strolled downstairs hand in hand
as Tara was pushing the door closed.
"Is that stuff on the porch some sort of demon
goo or is it just what it looks like?"
"Harris goo."
"I guess that means they decided to leave the mess
for me to clean up," Buffy sighed.
"Harris made the bloody mess. Let him clear it
up."
The two women exchanged glances and then looked
at Spike as if he'd lost his mind.
"What? ...Why're you two lookin' at me like I'm some
sorta moron?"
Buffy tilted her head as she watched him. "For
one thing, there's no polite way to ask him to do it. For another,
if he tried it might end up making him ill again and for a third,
there's a chance they're still trying to set his nose and stop it
bleeding. Whatever, he'll be doing the guy thing and playing up
for sympathy."
"Yeah, well, as I recall your standard bedside
manner consists of the phrase 'You'll live'. An' if you're worried
about being rude then I'll bloody tell him to do it. Nobody expects
me to be polite."
"No you won't!" Buffy hissed loudly at him. "You
will not embarrass me in front of my friends. Look, just ring up...
Actually maybe we'll wait till later to get the pizzas. Just take
Tara through, get her a beer if she wants one.
I'd rather do it myself, anyway, than have Xander
do a half-ass job and have to try to get rid of it when it's dried
on."
Buffy ducked out the front door and started to
make her way round to the back of the house to get the hose. Spike
told himself that he should do as she said. No way was he cleaning
up the Whelp's bloody puke. But no way was he letting her lift that
hose reel and run round after that git when her arm was in that
state. His gaze darted back and forward between the door and Tara
for a few seconds before he made up his mind.
"Pixie, you know where the fridge is. Help yourself."
Adjusting the sweatshirt so it would protect him from the rays of
the setting sun he dashed after his girl.
Buffy looked up as he came round the corner, not
fooled by his sudden change to walking pace. "What now?" she asked
irritably as she struggled to find a way to pick up the heavy reel
so that it wasn't resting against her bruised arm.
"Thought maybe I could help."
"But why?"
Spike shrugged. "'Cause you're hurt and I'm not.
'Cause I don't think it's right you havin' to do it. 'Cause you're
better than that."
"How about 'cause the sun hasn't set yet and you
could catch fire... I appreciate the thought but I don't think you
should be taking chances with Mr Sunlight."
"Then leave it and I'll get it later. Sun'll be
down in an hour or so."
Buffy sighed. "Compromise. You carry that round
to the front of the house and then get your melanin-deprived ass
back inside, and I'll hose it off. It can't be any worse than cleaning
the gents after a weekend late shift at DMP."
Spike picked up the heavy reel without comment
carrying it round to the tap at the front of the house and hooking
it up. Buffy grabbed the other end of the hose before Spike could.
She'd noticed his lack of agreement re the division of labour. The
porch was soon damp, but free of debris. Spike hung back by the
door.
"I woulda got it for you, pet," he said.
"I know ...but maybe I think you're better than that,"
she told him.
For once, the vampire was stunned into silence.
To say things were tense when the blonde duo walked
into the front room would be like saying Pavarotti could sing a
bit. Spike was staring daggers at Xander. Xander couldn't work out
whether to retaliate or look sheepish for Buffy's benefit. Buffy
was trying to keep an eye on the room's testosterone quotient. Dawn
and Janice were quietly treating the whole thing like a tennis match.
Tara had found the wine that was left over from Spike and Buffy's
picnic and was looking far more civilised than the beer-swilling
adults as she and Willow snuggled up on the sofa. Anya had got over
her earlier fright and was now busy making a fuss over Xander and
his busted and puffy nose.
"Spike. You broke Xander's nose. Now he may never
recover his classic profile," Anya whined.
"You're telling me he's been round Buffy for six
years and it's the first time he's had his nose bust. One of us
must've been getting special treatment," Spike snarked.
"Spike," said Buffy in a soft voice, a plea to
the vampire and she was surprised that he immediately dropped back
and stood back leaning against the wall, pulling out his cigarettes
and a lighter. "How's your nose, Xander?"
"It'll be fine. It'd take more than the blond bimbo
to do any permanent damage," Xander answered in a subdued tone.
"What about your arm?"
"Just bruised. A few days and it'll heal right
up. Don't sweat it."
"Look, Buffy, I'm really sorry. I didn't realise
how tight I was holding you. I know it's no excuse, but you have
to know that I would never deliberately hurt you."
"If you really meant that, you wouldn't be trying
to cause trouble between me and Spike and I wouldn't have this bruise.
He's right. You don't know him. Either get to know him or just stay
away from him, but don't ...just jump to all the worst conclusions
then start throwing accusations about. I'm sick of it."
Buffy moved over into Spike's waiting arms, looking
up to give him a smile of thanks for staying quiet. Spike returned
the smile and asked, "Anybody need another drink?"
"It's okay, Spike, I'll get them. Beer right?"
Tara offered, scanning round the room for any other takers.
"Yeah, pet. Thanks." Spike treated her to a glowing
smile as his arms settled more firmly around Buffy, only moving
to take a draw from his cigarette or to flick ash into the fireplace.
"Well, how about we skip to the filmed drama rather
than the real stuff?" suggested Willow as she picked up the first
of the tapes and slotted it into the machine.
A few minutes later the trailers finished and a
disgruntled English voice asked, "Alright, which one of you two
is the evil bint responsible for this?" The opening titles of Coyote
Ugly moved across the screen.
The rest of the evening passed without further
incident. The men in the group were slightly mollified by the Jet
Li film that followed the blatant chick flick. Xander even played
nice and said he'd leave his plans and sketches for the basement
so that Buffy and Spike could look through them together and discuss
the various alternatives. Of course, he still didn't actually speak
to Spike, but then no-one expected miracles.
Everything more or less broke up when Buffy and
Spike walked Janice home. It seemed to instigate a general parting
of the ways. The pair had planned on doing a patrol after they finished
escort duty, with a stop at Spike's flat at some point in the night.
Things turned out slightly differently.
"Spike, I kinda wanna just go home now... curl up
in bed... get some sleep. This whole thing with Xander... and patrolling
injured... not a great plan."
"Oh... right then... I'll see you home and do a quick
sweep before I head for my place."
Buffy sighed. "I was hoping you would come with.
Keep the bad dreams away? ...if you think you could just sleep."
"Maybe," Spike answered, his head tilted forward
and a mischievous grin matching the sparkle in his eyes. "...if I
get a cup of cocoa first."
"With little marshmallows," Buffy agreed. "We could
have a look through Xander's plans. See if there's something we
like... then we've got the morning to ourselves... well, together anyway.
I don't know who else will be around."
"Slayer, shhh. You had me as soon as you asked.
And I was going to ask to be excused from the sexcapades tonight
anyway. I've got a stinkin' headache." He squeezed the hand he was
holding and then released it in favour of slipping his arm around
Buffy's shoulders.
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