It was dark when he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t remember if it had been very bright when he’d fallen asleep so he had no idea how long ago that had been. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, which he found utterly frustrating, but when they did he saw Buffy curled up on a chair next to the bed. She was wrapped in a blanket but her eyes were open.
She jumped to her feet when he sat up. “Spike?”
“Morning pet” His voice still sounded hoarse.
“How are you? I mean are you feeling…”
“Like I got trampled by a merry tribe of chaos demons? Yeah.” Seeing the concern on her face he sighed. “I’m fine, or as fine as…”
“Are you hungry or…” She turned on the light. “maybe a shower.”
Spike glanced down at the now filthy sheets and looked back up sheepishly. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“No. I just meant that you…I’m not worried about the sheets Spike.”
“A shower will put me to rights.” He gave Buffy a small smile. She was clearly not ready to tell him what was happening and he wasn’t feeling up to pressing just yet. He pushed the blankets aside and stood up, pleased to find that he was at least a little steadier on his feet now.
“Do you…will you…do you think you’ll be ok on your own?”
Spike couldn’t help but grin at Buffy stammering lips and flushed cheeks. “A hundred plus years…I should probably be able to bathe myself.” He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Of course if you feel like playing Nightingale…”
“What?” Seeing Spike’s attempt to smirk and pretend like he wasn’t freaking out, Buffy figured he was teasing. She did wonder how nightin-whatever was played. “There are plenty of towels in there and soap and stuff. I think I can find you some clothes; the house was, well it used to belong to an old Watcher friend of Giles. I think there’s still some stuff. I’ll just …” She trailed off. He never stopped looking at her. She had forgotten how intense it was, being in his gaze. He was looking at her for answers, she knew that, but she wasn’t so sure he was going to like the ones she could give. She could just hear herself now ‘We’ll turns out I kind of own your soul’. Yeah, she thought bitterly, that was just thing a man who didn’t even want you to know he was alive was waiting to hear. She turned away breaking the hold of his eyes on hers. “I’ll just let you get cleaned up.”
Spike watched Buffy leave the room before turning and walking into the bathroom. He was once again startled by his reflection and found himself starring at it for several minutes. How had this happened? How was it that he was not dead? The prophecy hadn’t been for him, he was sure of that, regardless of what he may have said to the contrary.
Buffy returned to the room with the clothes she’d scrounged from the closet in the other bedroom. She placed them on the chair and began pulling the bedding off. It really was pretty gross now, she thought, so she might as well throw it in the wash. When she returned with fresh sheets, she realized that she still hadn’t heard the shower. She was at the door, ready to pull it off its hinges and rescue him, when he finally turned on the water. She made up the bed and laid out the clothes she’d found. She sat for a minute listening to shower and considering the story she soon would have to tell. Once again, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if she had made the wrong choice. Was she keeping him from heaven?
She stood up thinking that it would probably take him a while to clean up considering how covered he’d been. She went downstairs and put water in the kettle, though she suspected Spike would prefer something a bit stronger than tea. Though, she thought, considering the pukefest earlier he might not really be up for anything stronger. She opened the fridge and considered its contents. Should she cook something? He probably ate regular food now right? She shook her head, even if he did eat regular food, she thought, he probably wasn’t up for a Buffy-cooking experiment yet. She closed the fridge and pulled a couple of cans of soup out of the cupboard instead. Buffy poured the soup into a pot and set it on the stove as well. She leaned back against the counter for second before hoisting herself up to sit on it.
She was sitting there watching the kettle and contemplating the wisdom of the whole watched pot thing when Spike came down the stairs. “Buffy?”
“I’m in here.” She slid down from the counter as he walked in the room. “I figured…” Her jaw dropped. The clothes she’d found were definitely not his style and she suspected he felt ridiculous wearing them, but she couldn’t quite get past what the dark blue button-down was doing for his eyes. Both it and the khakis she’d found were just a little too big for him causing Spike to look sort of smaller and younger, though that was generally the case whenever he wasn’t wearing his duster. Buffy wondered, not for the first time if that was why he wore it, to look bigger. “You look…”
“Like a right prat…had to be a Watcher’s place right?” He shook his head and told himself he must be misreading the message in Buffy’s eyes. She hasn’t wanted you like that in a long time mate, he thought, no reason for her to start now.
Buffy looked away and began pulling mugs from the cupboard. “I know it’s not your…we can go out tomorrow and find you something more… you. Ok?” She turned her head and gave him a small smile.
He nodded. “Where are we?” He asked quietly.
Buffy turned to him surprised and realized then how incredibly patient he was being. He had no idea what was happening. If it were her she’d have been throwing punches by now, but he just stood there waiting for her to be ready to explain. Are you really surprised, a voice in her head argued, waiting for you is what Spike has been doing for years. Or did do for years, it corrected, until you finally convinced him you didn’t care. “You’re in London and it’s been a little over a month since that battle in L.A.”
Spike nodded, his eyes widening with surprise and waited for her to continue.
“I’m making tea and heating some soup. I think you should try to eat.” when it looked like he might argue she added “while we talk.” She poured water into the teapot and brought it along with a couple of mugs to the table. Setting them down, she returned to the stove to ladle the soup into a couple of bowls.
Spike watched with interest as Buffy settled the bowls and a couple of spoons on a tray and then brought those to the table as well. She seemed quite a bit more comfortable in the kitchen than he recalled. He smiled, it was nice to watch her do something so normal and homey. It was the soft side of Buffy that he so rarely got to see.
“Spike” She nodded at the table before sitting down.
Spike walked over and took his place at the spot beside her. He smiled as she handed him a cup of tea.
“I don’t know how you like it.”
Spike wasn’t sure how to take the nervousness in her tone. “Plain is fine, thank you.” He frowned when he realized her nerves were bringing out his. It seemed that without his demon it was a bit harder to keep up his normal masks. His voice didn’t even sound right.
Buffy took a sip of her own tea and tried to decide where to start. “You…you died again” she glanced up to see him nod and settled her gaze back down. “During the battle I think, I’m not sure how; I didn’t know that you were even…we got reports right afterward and we sent people to try and find…I don’t think anyone made it.” She looked back up. “I’m sorry; I heard that you were close to…”
Spike cut in, his voice rough. “They were trying to do the right thing, trying to be champions.”
Buffy nodded, thinking once again that she should have been there helping. “We weren’t sure at first about you or Angel; I mean there wasn’t any bo…way to know for sure. But after a couple of weeks of searching…” She trailed off remembering watching while Willow performed a dozen different locater spells.
“He’s really…?” He stopped at her nod, watching the tears threaten to escape her eyes. “I didn’t really hate him you know or I did but not just…”
Buffy looked surprised for a moment but just nodded.
He gave her moment, let her push back the tears before asking “Buffy if I died, how am I …was it…was there a spell?”
He was watching her again, head tilted in that way that was entirely unique to him. Buffy reached her hand towards him, but stopped short of touching. She pulled it back to her lap. “I’m not…” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There was a man or a thing; it has to do with your soul.”
Spike waited questions clear in his expression.
“When you got your soul back, you…you must have…somehow…” She paused. “You got it for me didn’t you?”
Spike looked up with watery eyes and shrugged. “Thought it was what you wanted; couldn’t let myself hurt you again.” They’d never really talked about it, or at least she’d never really acknowledged her part in it. He wasn’t sure why she was bringing it up now, after so much time had passed. He shrugged again. “Yeah, ‘course I got for you.”
“He said you must have...been thinking about me or…” She caught Spike’s ‘Of course I was’ expression. “You gave me your soul.” There, she thought, I said it.
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