Chapter Three
Something was up with Buffy.
Dawn watched her sister, wigged by the eerie little smile that had plopped down on her lips sometime before the slayer had walked in the front door, and hadn’t yet left. Buffy didn’t do happy and that smile was making all kinds of promises that Dawn just couldn’t handle. It had to be the bot—except the bot was destroyed way beyond repair and as much as Willow thought she was the wielder of miracles, one consisting of wires and fake skin were far beyond her grasp.
“Um, Buffy? Did something happen? Like…did you get fired again?”
Buffy spun in a circle, her arms outstretched and a euphoric giggle bursting from her lips. “Better, Dawnie. We’re going shopping.”
Okay, so now she was positive that a pod had taken over and the real Buffy was nowhere to be found. They didn’t shop—not anymore. Shopping required a certain amount of the moula in reserve and that was something sorely missing from their current lifestyle. Not that she blamed Buffy for that. Not really. But it didn’t make it any less difficult resigning herself to being poor and missing out on all the things that the other kids that had parents got all too easily and frequently.
“We? Am I getting something too?” Dawn’s insecure voice broke through Buffy’s celebratory dance and the smile slipped. “Figured.” She crossed her arms across her chest, an automatic defence against the strain of disappointment.
“Oh Dawn. I’m so sorry. That was really insensitive.” Buffy hurried to hug her sister, rushing into promises of things that Dawn suspected she didn’t have a hope of keeping. The teen flushed guiltily. Buffy had been happy for all of three minutes and as usual, she’d managed to bring her sister back down to the very pits of the depression she’d been wallowing in since her return to the living.
“It’s no big,” she protested, and as the water in Buffy’s eyes slowly dispersed, she realised how true it was. It didn’t matter what had suddenly made Buffy so happy and enthusiastic to be part of the living world again. She could surrender a new shade of lipstick or a new pair of shoes just this once. “You should totally buy yourself something pretty. It’s been forever since you did. Just…next time it’s my turn. Deal?”
Buffy was so relieved she shook. Dawn glanced at her sister and worried how something so small could make the blonde so pitifully grateful.
“Absolutely,” Buffy agreed, dragging Dawn into another back-breaking hug. “We’ll make a plan for it tomorrow, start saving and everything.”
Several minutes passed where they clung to each other, neither ready to get back into the rut of the every day—except, shopping had been promised, and even when it wasn’t for her, Dawn was so into any shopping experience that was on offer.
Pulling herself away, she got down to the nitty-gritty immediately. “So, what’s the mission? New brand of yoghurt? A black pen? Oh, I know, one of those intellectual type books that Willow’s always talking about?” And at Buffy’s mortified look, “Sexy lingerie?” The blush that consumed the slayer’s face told its own story and Dawn felt a Spike-worthy smirk spread across her lips. “You are so owing me a story, Miss Secretive. Where’s the studly that inspired this little outing?”
Buffy battered a weak hand at Dawn’s shoulder, pushing the girl back half a step before Dawn hit her with her own stronger shove. Buffy tripped back and fell on the stairs, giggling with such a light heart that Dawn’s eyes misted. “Can’t afford the underwear, Dawn. But I need a dress. A pretty dress. Something blue.”
The dreamy expression that followed the words had Dawn gaping at her sister. Buffy wanted to impress a guy? Whoo boy, that’d been a long time coming, but it was a good sign, right? It meant that she was starting to accept where she was—or more importantly, where she wasn’t—and was maybe going to try and live again. Still, it was more than a mystery. They’d only just got rid of Riley and his conveniently swift replacement bride—where the hell had Buffy gone to meet someone new?
“Something blue is something we can do,” she agreed, looking incomprehensibly at Buffy as she burst into a fit of giggles.
“Something blue is something we can do,” the blonde repeated with a cracked voice, the laughter filling the foyer like it hadn’t for far too long.
Dawn slapped a hand on her hip and glared at Buffy. No one made fun of her and got away with it. “I thought we had shopping to do? Maybe you’d rather sit there and laugh yourself to death and I’ll go spend this hidden stash on new Backstreet Boys CDs?”
Buffy was up the stairs, changed out of her perfectly acceptable outfit into another, and they were out the door, smiles and jokes mandatory to the expedition.
Barely a minute into their walk, Dawn turned and gave her sister a speculative look.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?”
Buffy turned a brighter shade of tomato and mumbled "Spike" before she took off at a slayer-speed run, leaving a gob-smacked Dawn in her non-vampire dust. The teen stared after her for a minute before a brighter-than-bright smile broke out on her face.
“About dang time!” Dawn shouted after the disappearing blonde and raced off to catch her.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
She couldn’t believe how nervous she was.
She’d at least doubled the amount of time she’d taken to prepare for her first date with Riley, her fingers shaking through every part of her toilette. Her hair was freshly washed, her face perfectly made up, and her dress was new, short and divine. Electric blue, Buffy had no trouble visualising how well she’d match Spike’s eyes. What she wasn’t picturing so clearly was how she was going to manage patrol in such a skimpy, seductive outfit. He said to dress up, and after some of the stunts she’d pulled in their top secret relationship, she thought she owed him something special. Or as special as her budget would allow. Luck had been completely on her side for once when she’d spied the dress on a discount rack. It was the perfect colour, the perfect price and had the perfect cling to her shape. She just knew Spike’s eyes were gonna pop.
His arrival wasn’t kept as quiet as he might have liked. Buffy’s skin tingled and her body was on alert the second she sensed a vampire, and through sheer force of will, she determined it was Spike. There was no actual allowance for fledglings tonight—even though it was theoretically a patrol date. Nothing else factored into her thinking—not the newly risen undead, not friends and certainly not any hints of a looming apocalypse. For the first time Buffy could remember since her doomed relationship with Angel, she was fully focused on one thing; on one man.
And in moves typical to Spike, he trod on a twig and the crack that broke through the night made her feel weak in the knees. He moved closer behind her, Buffy squeezing her eyes closed in heart-rocketing anticipation. His breath disturbed the hair by her ear and she shivered as he leaned even closer, pausing just long enough to make her want to scream that waiting was a mistake, pivot on the spot and throw her arms around him.
But then his gravely, hushed words calmed her, tickled her curiosity and then inflamed her again to the point of desperately wishing she could throw caution to the wind and jump his bones.
“Sleeping, dreaming, all true hearts gleaming,
settling on a starry night sky.
Hopes and wishes tucked up in kisses,
no longer does the lonely girl cry.
Of beauty and grace, and pleasure on her face,
her body taut enough to fly.
Coming together, and sharing real love forever,
breathing awe, shades of Heaven in her eyes.”
Buffy held her breath and immediately felt woozy. She didn’t need to turn; in seconds Spike stood in front of her, his expression vulnerable as he searched her for something she’d never believed she could give.
“That was beautiful.” For once she wasn’t just opening up and letting meaningless words tumble from her mouth. This moment meant a lot to Spike; she’d known that from the very moment his eyes had lit up when the second chance had been offered. And when Spike wanted something as badly as Buffy now realised he truly wanted her, his usual bravado took a beating.
“Was just something that popped into the old noggin’. Seeing you here, in the moonlight…looking particularly lovely in that smashing dress…how could a vamp resist?”
It was the tone of his voice that did it. The perfect Spike-trying-to-be-aloof voice that made her senses thrum and her heart beat its need to be in his arms. A knowing smile spread across her lips and Buffy couldn’t resist the impulse to do mischief. “I’m worthy of poetry now?” The glint of fun slipped from her eyes as Spike stared at her, obviously shocked.
“Pet, there’d be many women out there far less deserving than you.” And then he ducked his head, suddenly shy at the further exposure of his Williamness and Buffy felt her heart swell, infused with unfamiliar warmth.
Feeling bold, she stepped forward and slipped her hand into his. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him, captivated not for the first time by the look of awe he freely showered her with. It took a moment to remember how to breathe, and then another how to talk, and then she was asking him what he had in store for them for the night. As he regaled about the perfect picnic spot and gently nudged her in the direction, Buffy desperately tried to act calm when all she really wanted to do was stop him, run her fingers through his hair and let him make love to her mouth.
They didn’t walk far, passing no more than five headstones before they made it to a red picnic rug spread out under the arching branches of an oak tree. Spike actually had a basket and, while Buffy felt apprehensive about what nature of goodies he had stashed away in there, the wine glasses were a reassuring touch. There was absolutely no getting rid of this giddy smile that had taken over her lips now. Spike was being romantic, and as unexpected as it was, Buffy loved every second of it. She loved how nervous he was to show her how much this thing between them meant to him. She was suddenly grateful for that more reasonable voice that had shouted in her ear about the injustice she’d be delivering if she’d dumped him and turned her back on the possibility of them for good.
Without a word, Spike led her to the blanket, waited for her to sit and look comfortable before he turned abruptly and punched the vamp that had been trying to sneak up behind him, knocking him flat and momentarily stunned. Buffy jumped, having blocked out all creatures of the night but Spike and so being unprepared for the attack. There was no joy in Spike’s usual mode of dispatching death to his kin. One lightning fast jab of his stake and the vamp was history, leaving Spike to fall to his knees on the blanket and finally open the basket.
It was laden with food: chicken, fruit, sandwiches and some kind of pie. Buffy’s mouth watered and she completely dismissed that evil goody-two-shoes voice that wanted to demand where he got the money for all of it. Tonight it didn’t matter. If he could bend this far out of character, then Buffy could allow him to cling to a little bit of evil, too.
Eating wasn’t a problem. Nor was the drinking of beverages when Spike poured the cooled, fresh white wine into a glass and handed it to her. What apparently was difficult was the talking part and Buffy realised how rarely she’d allowed that to happen between them recently. She had no clue where to begin, what was a safe topic and what was inevitably not. Should she talk about patrolling or Dawn, his failed stint as ‘The Doctor?’ Nerves had never really been a factor in any of her dealings with Spike. She’d felt fear once or twice in the early days, and terror in the more recent ones when she realised she’d pitched herself into a spiral of despair and no matter how hard she kicked, neither she nor Spike could get her out of it.
Riley had managed what Spike and the Scoobs had failed to do all year, and all it had apparently taken was an impulsive marriage to the perfect woman that wasn’t her. Mrs Finn was strong, tall, mission-oriented, army regulation perfect for Riley and Buffy couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief that she’d missed him in the final seconds before he’d left. Sam was the walking embodiment of what letting Riley Finn go had meant. His life and his health—no longer an extension of some skanky vamp-ho’s fangs, or the boyfriend of an apathetic slayer.
So, unable to choose a topic that would sustain the peace they were currently sharing, rather than chancing one that would blow it completely, the couple remained quiet, and strangely it was a shared moment of silent comfort.
For one whole minute, and then the cracks began to ripple through their stillness, disrupting their security, tearing them both from composed normalcy and into a dark rip of uncertainty.
“This is bollocks, Buffy.” Spike leapt to his feet and started pacing, glancing back at her and grimacing at how beautiful she looked, his heart splintering at how much effort she actually took for him. She was peppy and looked happy, yet underneath there was so much that had been swept under the surface and Spike didn’t know how to deal with that. He knew what he wanted to do—tear the dress from breast to hem and devour her in the mind-numbingly satisfying manner he’d grown accustomed.
But that would be wrong. He thought that was wrong. He was sure Buffy would see that as wrong. And he was trying so hard to not be wrong. To not dowrong.
“What are you doing here?” Tilting his head, he peered down on her, the night showing her off to advantage under the vampire’s moon and making him lose his focus to the throb of lust taking over his body. “What are you really doing here, Buffy?”
“Wh-what?” The façade slipped and Spike had another glimpse of the broken girl that had been unwillingly returned to him—to them all. It hurt, but it fuelled him with hope that all was not lost and even if he had to push on with this dating and hands-off thing, it wouldn’t be forever. He’d have her back eventually—if he could wait long enough. He’d show her how much he loved her and how they belonged together. It wasn’t an option to fail. Oh sure, he’d live if she kicked him to the curb—again—but it wasn’t his choice. It wasn’t what he wanted. Or what he believed she needed.
Slowly Buffy stood, her gaze looking skittish and unsure, bordering on terrified. The quiver in her voice beckoned of the wounded, insecure warrior as she tried hard to look him in the eye as she sought the truth. “I-I thought we were…seeing if this could work? Do you not want to?”
The possibility of his withdrawal of interest was obviously spooking her and Spike rushed forward to reassure her, not that he could have held back if he’d tried. His hands closed around her upper arms and he held her firmly. “Of course I want to,” he said, his smile gentle and warm. “’S jus’…bloody confusing, is what it is.”
“Oh.” Air whooshed past her lips in obvious relief and her body relaxed, hands covering her face as she tried to stop herself from shaking. “That…was actually kind of disturbing.” Hesitantly raising her eyes, Spike could see a matching vulnerability and wondered what he’d done to deserve her.
He ignored the fact that he knew he didn’t, but determined he was going to have her just the same.
“What say we sit back down on the rug and try out some of the nosh I scrounged up?” His look was hopeful and her smile of the watery kind as she took his lead and made herself comfortable again on the ground.
Tentative conversation indicated just how nervous they both were, and Spike violently held back his passion for her in favour of not having his face kicked in and eating her dust as she flounced off all aflutter. It was hard. They both felt the strain but persisted until just being with each other was exhausting.
“Want to patrol?” Spike asked at last.
Buffy scrambled to her feet, her eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “I thought you’d never ask.” To hell with her dress. Spike would appreciate it more for seeing it flying up around her face with a snap kick anyway. “Last one to kill a demon is a rotten egg,” she bellowed before speeding off into the night, a smirking Spike at her heels.
The promise of Buffy and violence—life just didn’t get any better than this.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Many thanks to Holly for helping me through this chapter. And yes, I did write the extremely poor quality poem. Don't flame me for it, please!