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Chapter 7

His jaw was set firm in the moonlight as he stood in front of her window. “Slayer, why do you torment me so?”

Buffy looked up and raised her head up to lean on her hand. Buffy did a very un-Buffy like thing. She laid back down on her pillow and continued to stare at the ceiling, and then she sighed. “Where have you been?”

“Been visiting friends, like a good demon should. Stayin’ away from you and yours, innit what you wanted?” He walked over to sit on the chair near her desk.

“Hmmm. Why in the world would you think I was tormenting you, Spike?” She turned on her side to look at him.

“Your mum, my poetry, which you know nothing about, might I add. Joyce has been a right nice lady to help me out, and then you bother her with your prattle.” He shrugged out of the duster obviously making himself comfortable.

“I thought she’s wanna know. That so bad?”

“Slayer, as much as I’d love to spar with you tonight, I had plans, so I-“

“I saw the person you were,” she interrupted. “I saw the man you were, you glowed! Your demon, not so scary as much as a little of the eww. But I saw inside you. And you know what? You’re not half the Big Bad you said you were, William.” Her eyes were kind as she spoke. She waited patiently for some kind of response, as when there wasn’t any, she began again.

“You are the most intricate person—yes I said person, that I know. I see things that I’m sure you have wanted people as well as vamps to see way before you met me. God, Spike! Other than Tara, you seem to be the only person who looked pure enough, and strong enough to be there.” She stopped again, rising from the bed, kneeling in front of him. “I need you. I need you more than you’ll ever know, and I need you to trust me. How can I make you see?” She laid her palm on his knee, reaching with the other to touch his cheek.

He closed his eyes, actually savoring the feel of her small, warm hand touching him.

She leaned back after a moment and sat on her legs. “I can trust you, Spike. Can you trust me?”

His eyes opened, half-lidded. “What did you see in the trance, Buffy?”

“Nothing. Everything was normal. So, that means that its nothing magical, like Giles thought, and its probably something medical. I’ll tell Mom that she needs to set up an appointment tomorrow with her doctor.” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you say? Will you be my Huck Finn?”

Spike smiled at the mistake. “That’s Huckleberry, you silly bint.” He sobered up. “Yeah.”

She raised her hand and he laced it with his own, the truce between enemies made.


The next morning at Giles’ apartment, Xander, Anya, and Tara were discussing the finer points of Star Trek. Of which, Anya knew surprisingly a lot about.

“Captain Kirk was the man, he beat Scotty in most everything. Bones was a close third to them both. But I’d say in looks, the young William Shatner was the best looking in the entire cadre.” Anya sat back, proudly assuring herself there was nothing anyone else could say in that department.

“I know, but if you were to ask me, Sulu was the man, I don’t really care what you two girls say,” he stressed girls nervously.

Anya was not one to be taken down lightly. “I know, if you can’t see it from our opinion, then I can honestly say that any orgasms that you want for the next month will be held out for your hand, and hand only.”

Xander smiled. “Shutting up now.”

Buffy walked in, wearing sweats and a tank top. “Giles here?”

Tara spoke up, “No, he went to the magic store. H-h-h-he said there were some things that he had ordered that had come there instead of here, and Willow went with him. How did your trance go?”

“It was nothing. I mean, everything was all magicky, and I gave Mom the 20 times over and decided it must not be magical. So, she’s at the doctor’s office, getting a full physical, including MRI’s and CT scans.” She turned to leave.

Xander stopped her. “Call me, if you need anything.”

She managed a small smile and walked outside, “You bet.” Then she was off to finish her run.


That night, if one were to look in her room from her window, they would see that it resembled the bathroom scene from Bull Durham. Candles were lit everywhere, casting odd shadows here and there. Once more Buffy looked at the clock and groaned when she realized he was a half hour late. She went to opening one of the volumes of original work he had dropped off last night for her to read.

A few moments later, he crawled through her window, carrying a small package. It was slim and wrapped in shiny pale kahki paper. He handed it to her, and then took off the duster to lay it on the chair. “What’s this?” Her eyebrows wrinkled, showing her confusion.

He chuckled low in his throat, “Open it. ‘S a small present.”

“Last month you were plotting my death, this one you’re buying gifts. We should have made peace a long time ago. A happy Buffy gets and gives gifts!” She grinned.

She ripped off the paper and stared at the bounty that lay before her.

It was slim, plain covered book, bound with black ribbons. Nothing adorned the covered of back, and there was nothing in the pages. She looked up at him, holding her breath. “Care to explain?” She held it out to him.

He scoffed, looking annoyed, “It’s a journal, Slayer. Supposed to have one to put down your feelings and what all. Thought you might need one.” She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it. “Before you asked, it was bought, not nicked, so it’s safe for your blessed self.”

She leaned back on the headboard and turned it over in her hands, just looking. “Thank you, Spike. It means a lot.”

“Don’t get used to it, just thought of you when I went by the stationary store before coming over.” She knew damn well he was lying, but she didn’t want to press her luck. Buffy had worked too hard thus far to get him here in the first place.

She slid it in her bedside table drawer. “So, ready to help me search through this mess?” She pointed to the books that littered her bed.

“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed a few and went to the floor, where he leaned on her bed for support and started to read.


Around three in the morning they were little closer than they were when they started. Fortuanately, for Buffy that meant she wouldn’t feel very bad if she passed out. Which was exactly what she was doing, little to Spike’s amusement. So, he did what came naturally. He smacked her on the bottom with a book.

“Hey!” She said groggily. “What’d you hit me for?”

He stood up and looked at her as he slowly pulled on his duster. “You were falling asleep luv, wasn’t fair with me still doing the work.” He leaned down to move some of the books off the bed. Her legs werew hanging halfway off the side so he righted those as well, an pulled the covers up to tuck her in.

“What’re you doing, Spike?” Her eyes were struggling to stay open.

His jaw tightened as something in him was stirring, and not for the first time that night. “Getting ready to leave Slayer. Thought you might want me to get out while the getting’s good.” She kicked out slightly with her foot, nearly hitting his package. “All right then, you seem to be getting along well enough, and there’s drinking for me to do, so it seems like now would be a good time for me to leave.”

She smiled, “Stay. You can sleep on the floor, and that way you can help me in the morning when we wake up.” Her face fell, finally, and her eyes remained closed.

“No, think not, you might have a change of heart, so forget the deal and try to stake me in the morning. See you later, Slayer.” He turned to walk away.

She never answered. “Bollocks!” He swore under his breath. Reaching in her drawer, he grabbed the journal he had bought for her the night before and scrawled a little message so she wouldn’t think he just up and left her in the middle of the night without letting her know.



Spike walked into his crypt right before sunrise, the whole situation burning a hole in his gut. His black Goddess had been right. All this time, she had been right and he never even knew. The things he was feeling for the slayer wasn’t natural, really, but he felt them just the same. When those eyes focused on him, he felt like the rest of the world disappeared. That she was the only person that mattered.

He shook his head, taking another swig of the malt liquor he had in his hand. Nah, he was just paranoid. Spike held the bottle to the heavens and thanked Dru for her meddling once bloody again. Damn women!



Buffy woke to find an orange flower on the pillow nest to her and her journal open. It read:

Slayer, Buffy,

Went home, thought you could use the rest. Hope you liked the Fairy Lanterns, was always partial to them myself. Enjoy the journal, and I’ll see you at 10 pm.

Until then,

Spike

She looked at her flower and smiled. Today was going to be the first in a string of very good days, she was sure.





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