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Chapter 9

Smoke.

That’s what they both smelled when they woke in the morning. Buffy’s eye flew open and she saw Spike’s hand on fire. She ran for the curtain and he shot off the bed, only his legs were asleep and he fell in the process of smothering the flames. “Bloody hell! Water! Buffy, I need water!”

She ran to the bathroom and grabbed the glass and filled it. She ran to her room grimacing when she saw that she was spilling just as much as she was trying to keep in there. Dousing his hand, she grabbed the forgotten glass on her nightstand, and tossed it as well. “Sorry, “ she squeaked, “I really meant to get something else, but there just wasn’t anything, and oh hell. Are you okay?”

He turned it over and sighed. “Bit painful, but I’ll be okay. Don’t suppose you have any single malt around here?”

She looked utterly confused. “Are you afraid you’ll get an infection?”

“No, for the pain!” He ground out, the shock clearly wearing off.

“Ummm, no I think we’re all out. You could put it in cold water and that might help. Maybe I can call Mom—no wait—she’s at the hospital running more tests. I can think of something.” She went to her closet and started pulling out clothes.

“What? You think Parada is the answer to my very painful burnt hand? Thanks, but if you’ll just let me borrow a nice ratty old blanket, I can get myself home. Got some fine drink there.” He stood up, wincing as he put pressure on his hand. “Got anything you can loan me?”

She pulled the door farther open so she could change apparently. Not saying a thing.

“Slayer? ‘M going downstairs to wait, let me know you’re great plan.” He hobbled as far as the doorway when the smell of her hit him. He turned and leaned on the doorjamb, watching her drop clothes, and reach for more. It was heady, something he could definitely get used to. Inwardly, he was cursing drew to her very last not needed breath.

“Spike? You still there?”

“Umm, yeah, why?”

“Can you turn around so I can get something out of my drawers?”

He smirked to himself. “What is it?”

A beat. “Nothing, just something I need.”

He grinned full out. “Panties?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “Just turn around!”

He was enjoying this, kind of took his mind off the pain. “What if I don’t?”

He heard her sigh. “Then I will have to kick your crippled ass all the way downstairs!”

Quietly he inched for her dresser, pulling out a pink lacy thong, with a matching bra. His mouth started to physically water as he held it up in the air and contemplated her size to the size of the undergarments. Damn. “Buffy?”

“Yeah, Spike?”

“Can you model this one for me?” He walked over and handed it around the door to her.

“You are so dead, or deader. Get out of my room, before I do something we’ll both regret!” She was still shrieking as he went down the stairs, tossing “pig”, “asshole”, and other colorful metaphors that he was sure were used to describe himself. He laughed the entire way down. At least the pain was going away. Much better than whisky.


“So, this how you travel during the day?” They were walking in the sewers, like Angel used to when he lived in Sunnydale. She thought that Spike would be way too cool to follow the example of her ex, but whatever, that was his choice.

He rolled his eyes. “You know damn well that the Poofter used to travel this way. In fact, I’ll have you know that this is the way most of the demon population gets around when they don’t want to be seen. Or, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, now that I’m thinking ‘bout it.”

She laughed, “ I know, I just like messing with you. ‘Sides, I owe you one after the whole ‘picking the panties for Buffy’ this morning!”

He reached for her hand, which amazed her. They both looked at each other, quickly sobering up, smiling shyly and then looking away. They continued their walk until they reached the manhole closest to his home. Climbing up, Buffy checked the sun and saw they were in the shade, so she went for it.

When the got into his crypt, a surprise waited there for them. Riley was sitting on top of the sarcophagus that Spike used to sleep on, before he got the bed.

“Riley!” Buffy said, surprised.

“Buffy.” Riley was pissed, and not just a little.

“What are you doing here?”

“Could almost ask you the same thing, but we both know the answer to that one, don’t we?” He gestured to Spike.

She looked at him, angry and confused. “Were you checking up on me?”

He jumped off the lid and strode over to where they were standing. “No, just had a hunch, and well, I have gotta say, I really had hoped I was wrong.”

Spike lit a cigarette and sat down in the chair in front of the TV, looking at the burned hand. Buffy looked intently at Riley, nearly at the boiling point. “Nothing is going on with Spike and I. He came over to help with some research last night, and we fell asleep shortly after that! You need to find a new hobby, Riley. I do not need a boyfriend who watches every move I make.”

“But you don’t mind if they don’t have a pulse, is that right?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I will let that go, because you feel betrayed, or whatever.” She walked over to the TV and set down her bag. Riley followed, not about to give up.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. “You know, she may let that go, mate. I just can’t seem to shake it though. Sorry.” He punched him square in the face, setting off the chip and knocking Riley on his ass. Pain fell over his face like a curtain, but he took it, rolling his tongue behind his teeth and getting into his fighting stance.

Buffy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Spike wouldn’t even look at her; he was focused on Riley who had been lying on the ground. Now that he was up, he was headed over to take Spike out, even going as far as to pull out a stake from his waistband.

“STOP IT!” Buffy kicked it out of his hand and threw him by his arm into the door. “Riley! Get out and don’t come back. I’ve had enough! You’re ugly inside. Now, I don’t know what’s made you this way, but I am done.” She walked over and helped him to his feet, opening the door so he could leave. “Don’t come back.” She left him at the door with a wounded look on his face as it shut.

She took a deep breath and looked at Spike, was opening a bottle of bourbon with his teeth. Taking a swig, he smiled at her. “What?”

She continued to look at him.

“Feel better, then?”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and flopped down in the nearby chair. “God yes!”

Spike grinned and walked over to kiss the top of her head. “Good girl, Slayer.”



After dark, they headed back to Buffy’s to see what the doctor’s had to told Joyce. To their surprise however, she wasn’t there and the house was just like they’d left it. So it was decided upon that they head to the hospital.

The receptionist was a large, puffy, brunette that looked like she had seen a better day sometime before she’d been to the Hostess Discount Shop. Buffy walked up and leaned over to get her attention, which was in an éclair at the moment. “Ma’am?”

Stay-Puft, as Buffy decided to call her in her mind answered back, “Yeah?”

“I need to see if Joyce Summers is here, can you check for me?”

Begrudgingly, Stay-Puft set the éclair tenderly down on a nearby napkin and turned toward her computer. “Yeah, room 234.”

Buffy smiled at her, “Thank you, and have a good night.”

The smile faded as she turned to face Spike. “Mom didn’t even call, what’s going on?”

He guided her to the elevator gently. “’S okay, Buffy, she’s probably just had some more tests that took longer.”

She thought about that as the doors closed and turned to him. “But, if all they had to do were some tests, then why in the world would they have her in the computer and in a room. I don’t get it.”

The doors opened on the second floor and they nearly went at a nice jog to the nurse’s station ahead. “Hi, I’m Buffy Summers. I’m looking for my mother Joyce, and was told that she was on this floor in room 234. Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

The nurse looked at her mother’s chart, and then looked back at the pair. “I’ll page her doctor and have him come talk to you. Go ahead and have a seat over there in those chairs.”

Buffy smiled her thanks grabbed Spike’s hand once more. They walked to the chairs and sat down.

Spike stared straight ahead, even though it was killing him to see her like this. “Calm down, luv. Your hands are shaking.”

“No.”

“She’s alright, pet.”

“Wanna feel the sharp end of Mr. Pointy?”

“No.”

“Then just be here for me Spike. That’s all I need right now.”

He started mumbling under his breath. “Bloody bint. ‘Sharp end of a stake’ ‘eh? That’s what you get Spike for trying to be nice and deescalate the problem.”

She elbowed him. “Hey!”

“Shut up, Spike. You can bitch at me after we find out what’s going on with Mom.”

He sat up straighter, feeling vindicated. “Alright then.”

A man in scrubs walked up, pulling off his surgical cap. “Are you here for Joyce Summers?”





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