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Buffy and Spike decided that they needed to get away from the others, to have some quality time together. She suggested showing him her “sanctuary” and they wandered off hand in hand towards the moonlit central garden. Spike felt, well he didn’t know how he felt. He was – happy. He’d thought he’d been happy with Drusilla, but that was an insignificant shadow of how he felt now. He drew in a deep breath that was a combination of the heady “Buffy” scent and the scent of the evening, and sighed it out happily. Without thinking what he was doing, he said,

“O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is’t but mine own, when I praise thee?
Even for this let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv’st alone.
O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love;
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And thou teachest how to make one twain
By praising him here who doth hence remain!”

He smiled and looked at Buffy who was staring at him open-mouthed. Bugger, he cursed to himself, what the hell was he thinking, spouting poofy poetry like that! What must she be thinking of him! Spike cringed inwardly, waiting for her response.

Buffy was having trouble formulating words, her lips moved, but she made no sound. She looked at this man, who was staring at her with, what was it, apprehension in his eyes? The Slayer was realising that the more she got to know him, the less she knew about him. Then she stuttered, “That was…. That was. Oh, Spike that was beautiful! “

His smile was laser-like in its brilliance. He drew her close and kissed her tenderly. “Got a lot more, if that’s what you like, luv. Had to learn it by heart at school. Shakespeare had a way with words, didn’t he?” Looking at her, he couldn’t believe his luck. What the hell did she see in him?

Buffy pulled him towards the bench in the centre of the garden and, as he sat down, nestled in his lap. His arms closed around her and she felt safe and secure. How weird was that, she smiled to herself, feeling secure in a vampire’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The next day, Spike woke up after the best sleep he’d had in a long time. He stretched and yawned, grinning at the memories of the previous night when, after lovemaking, he’d lain in the safety and security of the Slayer’s arms. The irony of that pleased him and he shrugged mentally. Looking at the sunlight glowing around the edges of the curtains, he estimated it to be mid morning. Bloody hell, he must be adapting to human hours without realising it. He made his way to the bathroom, showered and then ambled downstairs to find Buffy.

He entered the kitchen and stopped in shock, as he was confronted with a room full of witches. Memories of what had happened at Hilda’s house, made him struggle to keep out of game face. “Where’s Buffy?” he growled.

“She and the others have gone shopping.” Hilda smiled at him encouragingly. “Spike, these are my friends. I don’t think you were properly introduced last time.” I’ve told them about what happened, how you saved our lives, and they are dying to meet you.”

“Bloody hell, witch, you make me sound like soddin’ Lassie.” He said with a grin and the tension in the room evaporated. Hilda introduced the four other witches, who then began interrogating him about the effects the magic had had on him. Spike couldn’t help feeling a bit like a specimen on a microscope slide.

He finally lost patience with them, loudly complaining of hunger and the witches took the hint, leaving him in Hilda’s care. A mug of warmed pig’s blood was set in front of him and, grinning, she waved a package of Weetabix under his nose.

“Look what I found in the professor’s larder.”

Touched that she should remember, he thanked her and crumbled one into his blood. Shuddering slightly at the sight, Hilda sat beside him sipping her cup of tea.

“The others have gone to get Alice and Jane ready to go back to the coven.” She said slowly.

Spike froze. She was leaving. He suddenly felt as though he was teetering at the brink of a chasm. His stomach roiled and his chest was tight. What the hell was happening to him?

Hilda was fighting her own emotions. The vampire’s face was a mask of indifference – she couldn’t read him at all. He had seemed to feel something for her in the past, and now he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her.

“You going with them?” He asked impassively.

“I had thought to wait and see you off at the airport, but now…..” her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard.

He slowly turned his head and stared at her. She was trembling, her heart was racing and he saw her eyes fill with unshed tears.

“What’s wrong?” He seemed to be genuinely puzzled.

“I’m going to miss you, you stupid man.” There, she’d said it – to hell with what he thought.

He blinked and said the first thing that came into his head. “Not as much as I’ll miss you.”

Hilda suddenly felt light headed. He was going to miss her! “I’ll miss you more.” She said weakly.

“Won’t.” he said with a glimmer of a smile.

“Will!” she said smiling back.

“Won’t!”

Hilda couldn’t reply, she was laughing too much.

“Hey, what’s the joke?” Neither of them had noticed Buffy enter the room.

“You had to be here.” Spike stood and enveloped his slayer in his arms. “Mmmm, where have you been?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the morning, the professor informed them that he had had an email from the American university agreeing to pay for his “assistant” to accompany him. Buffy hugged her vampire,

“We’re going home Spike.”

Home. In that moment he loved her more than ever, a thing he thought was impossible.

“Anywhere with you love, is home.” He whispered

“We’ll have to decide on a disguise then,” Giles said, “we can’t take the chance that the Council have given up looking for you.”

Spike looked at the Watcher and professor in apprehension. “Disguise? What disguise.”

Giles gestured towards Spike’s head, “Well, the hair for instance, it looks very -distinctive.”

After the inevitable argument, Spike finally submitted to Buffy dyeing it. She’d talked to Giles about it whilst they were out and they’d bought some light brown dye. When she towelled it dry, she stood back horrified. Spike took one look at her and said “Bloody hell woman! What’ve you done?”

“It’s only a semi-permanent colour – it’ll wash out. Eventually.” Her voice quavered.

Spike drew out a tiny digital camera from his pocket and handed it to her wordlessly. Trying to change the subject, she said, “Stealing again? Oh Spike, I thought you’d stopped that.”

“Don’t think the Scribe’s in any position to miss it Slayer, just take the photograph and stop stalling.”

He looked at his image on the camera display screen in wordless horror. Running his hands through his hair, he sprang up and began to pace. “Green! You’ve given me sodding green hair!”

“It’s only slightly green Spike. It’ll fade in time – well maybe a few weeks.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m so sorry.”

He glanced at her and realised how distressed she was. “S’okay luv, don’t fret.” He put his arms round her, “It’ll just take a bit of getting used to.” He thought back to the seventies and remembered having multi-coloured hair at the time. “Hey, I’m used to it already.”

“Good lord!” Giles had entered the room unseen. “You’ll stand out even more with your hair like that – what were you thinking!”

Another bitter exchange of words took place, with Buffy trying to referee between them. “It would be better if it all came off.” Giles retorted at last.

To everyone’s astonishment, Spike said casually, “Okay, do it.” He’d been watching Buffy’s growing unhappiness. Anything was better than that.

He insisted that she do the deed herself and sat patiently while she fussed around him. At last, she said, “It’s done.” He wordlessly handed her the camera and she took a snap.

Running his hands over his crown, feeling the short bristles under his fingers, Spike steeled himself to look at the camera screen. He stared at it, “Luv, you’ve managed the impossible – made me look even sexier.” He said curling his tongue behind his teeth.

Laughing with relief, Buffy threw her arms round him. He was right, it did suit him and it had the advantage of making him look very different. She was interested to see that his real hair colour was somewhat like her own real colour.

“All he needs now is a nice tweed suit to complete the disguise.” Giles said complacently.

“Don’t push it Watcher!” Spike growled.

“All right Spike, just don’t wear your trademark black.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




TBC

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