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Chapter 25: Baby Steps

By the time morning came around, Jake was ready to get out of the house. Not only was the conversation with Spike last night still weighing on his mind, but the fact that the house was dim due to Spike’s so-called migraine problems was making him a little stir-crazy. So, he and Dawn had convinced Buffy to let them go out and hang by the beach for a while. Buffy had agreed, mostly because she was feeling extra frisky, and she wanted some more alone time with Spike before her dad arrived home, which was supposed to be in a few hours.

Now, Buffy was draped over Spike in the bed, and they were both still sweaty and panting pretty hard. Buffy felt a little crick in her neck, and she sat up, rubbing the sore spot. Spike sat up next to her, pulling her hair back and examining the bite marks.

“How’s it look?” she wondered.

“Barely see anything. Slayer healing, eh?”

“Guess so.” She yawned and stretched a little.

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah. Just feels like I got a shot or something. It’s a little tender, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She shrugged her shoulders but narrowed her eyes when she saw him staring at her funny.

“What?”

“Do you…you know…feel any different this morning?”

“I don’t think so. Why?” Spike shook his head.

“It’s nothing. I was just wondering, is all.”

“Why were you wondering?”

“Rumor has it that sometimes there are a few extra…goodies that come with claims.” Buffy wrinkled her brow.

“What kind’ve extra goodies?” Spike shrugged it off, getting out of bed.

“Oh, things like telepathy, or even feeling each other’s pain.”

“Really?” Buffy said with a raised eyebrow. “Well, can you tell what I’m thinking, right now?” Spike smirked.

“You’re thinking I need to come back to bed.” Buffy’s jaw dropped.

“Wha…”

“Lucky guess, pet,” he chuckled. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Throw something at me.”

“What?! No!”

“Come on, Slayer. We need to know if you can feel what I feel.”

“Oh, great. I hurt you and I feel the same pain. No thanks.”

“Oh, just do it, Slayer. This is why we’re trying it on me, not you.” Buffy rolled her eyes and got up out of bed, strutting over toward him, her skin glowing just slightly despite the dimness of the room. She smiled sweetly at him, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. She couldn’t help but notice something stirring again down south. This was turning him on. Oh, this was definitely of the good.

“You really want me to hit you?”

“What are you waiting for?” he challenged, his voice a bit strained now. “C’mon, Slayer. Give it to me good.” She laughed, shaking her head and turning. But she quickly spun around, her fist coming at his face. He caught it, squeezing her wrist and making a face at her. “Good try. With her free arm, she swung around, but he grabbed that wrist too and twisted her around so that her back was now pressed against the door. He moved into her, his firm cock resting between her thighs. She slid against it, moaning softly as her juices coated him.

He leaned into her, pressing soft kisses to her collarbone, trailing up her neck to her ear. He murmured soft words in her ear that made her knees feel like jelly while the rest of her seemed to ignite.

“What were we talking about again?” she murmured, as his lips locked against hers. He moaned softly against her, and he gave her lower lip a little nibble, biting down just enough to remind her they were checking for pain. “Oh…right.” And she shoved him. Hard. He stumbled backward, falling against the corner of the bed and tumbling down onto the floor. She heard his head smack against the leg of the bedside table. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God! Spike! Are you ok?” He stood up, shaking off the shock.

“Never better, pet. Lucky I’ve got a hard head.” He winced, touching the tender area. “More importantly, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” she said with furrowed brows. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, luv. I told you to do it,” he chuckled, bridging the gap between them. Still, Buffy moved behind him to examine the damage. Not even a mark.

“Hmm. Yeah, I guess you do have a pretty hard head.” She frowned, and he turned to face her.

“C’mon, luv. Your dad’ll be here soon. Should probably get cleaned up.” Buffy’s lower lip stuck out just slightly.

“But I thought we were gonna…” She saw the gleam in his eye that accompanied his trademark smirk.

“Didn’t say we had to get separate showers, did I?” Buffy smiled, and she quickly tackled her lover, tossing him onto the bed. He laughed at her urgency and pulled his arms around her.

“Alright, then. The shower can wait. But not long…’cause I’ve got plans for you in there.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm,” he murmured against her lips. “How about a little preview?” He made his way down her body, spreading her legs, his fingers tickling her in the process. She burst out laughing, and she turned over on her belly.

“No tickling!” she laughed. “That’s so not fair.” She pushed him off of her but took his hand. “C’mon, Tickles. It’s shower time.”

***

“What’d I tell you, Giles?” Quentin Travers asked, as he stood in front of Dana Mullens’ room.

“It’s unbelievable,” Giles said with a shake of his head. “What was it you gave the girl?”

“The same thing we’ve been giving her every day. I told you it would work eventually. She’s completely lucid.”

“It is a significant change, yes,” Giles said quietly. Over the past few days, Dana had gone into a complete shutdown. She’d appeared to be comatose, but just hours ago, she’d awakened, wondering where she was. “Has she any memory of what she’s done?” Travers hesitated, and Giles turned to face him.

“That’s the interesting part. She has no memories of her crimes. That’s what she claims, anyway.”

“Have you told her about them?”

“Not yet. But what would be the point of that anyway? The girl doesn’t realize she is a murderer. But she realizes she is chosen to do great things. All she has to do is learn how to do them.” Giles was stunned. “Think about it, Giles. She’s a clean slate. She knows who she is. She knows she’s supposed to do something important, but she doesn’t seem to recall the events leading her to our care.”

“You’re suggesting training her, aren’t you? Turning her into an active Slayer…without telling her about the terrible things she’s done?”

“Why ruin the progress we’ve made, Giles? She doesn’t know she’s a killer…”

“But what if she still has those instincts buried somewhere inside of her? What if she does it again? What if her next kill is a human rather than a demon?” Quentin turned back to peer into the room, where Dana looked around, confused and frightened, but she no longer had the frantic, untamed look in her eyes anymore.

“Honestly,” Travers breathed, “I don’t think that girl exists anymore.”

“Doesn’t exist? She’s sitting right behind this door, Travers. Do you honestly expect me to put all my faith into some drug we know very little about, and just assume that she’s forgotten?”

“No, but I do expect you to understand that the world needs a Slayer who is willing to make sacrifices…”

“What are you asking of me?” Giles asked, stepping closer to Travers.

“I’m asking you to do what we’ve already done. I need you to ask Ms. Summers for her help.”

“She won’t do it,” Giles said with a shake of his head. “She knows how dangerous it could be. Besides, she could be hurt. A murderer with the strength of a Slayer.”

“An oblivious murderer,” Travers corrected. “She has no memory, Giles, and I see no reason why it shouldn’t stay that way. She’s been tormented enough. She has a clean slate, and all we have to do is train her, and she could become a powerful force against evil.” Giles sighed heavily. Deep down, his gut told him that this wasn’t all it seemed to be; that Dana, while appearing quite innocent right now, might eventually end up causing more harm than good as a Slayer. But at the same time, he knew that his job as a watcher was to train Slayers against the forces of evil, and if he could make any difference in her, perhaps it would be in making her into a finely tuned warrior for the good side. Maybe it would counteract the past. Then again, it might bring it back. It was a tossup.

“She’s on holiday right now.”

“That’s alright. I’d like to give Ms. Mullens a few days to adjust. We can bring in a team to evaluate her. We have mind readers to be certain she is unaware. We can condition her and test her responses to stimuli…be certain her aggression has ceased.” He watched his co-worker carefully. “We can do this safely, Giles. Just have a little faith in the Council. We’re still the good guys, remember? All we want is to make the best out of a bad situation. We can rehabilitate her. Look how far we’ve come with her already.”

***

“Are you still mad at me?” Xander asked, caressing Anya’s hand as she sat across from him reading a bridal magazine. She didn’t answer. “Well, you can’t be too mad if you’re still planning for the wedding.”

“I can plan for my wedding. I’m thinking I’ll start a new tradition. Only the bride has to show up.” She didn’t look up from the book.

“Don’t be…”

“What? Stupid? Sorry if I’m not as smart as Buffy. Or not as pretty. Sorry if I’m not worthy enough for you to get jealous over…”

“Anya!” Xander exclaimed with frustration. They’d had this conversation several times over the past couple of days. “I’m not jealous of Spike. For the last time, I don’t want to be with Buffy. I want…”

“But you used to. You’re upset, because you wonder why she could keep having sex with vampires and not give you a second thought. You never ask me about all the men I’ve slept with, and Xander, I’ve slept with a lot. A lot, a lot.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it doesn’t matter who I’ve slept with. You’ve never liked any of the guys Buffy’s dated, because they got to sleep with her, and you didn’t. You poured your heart out to her when you were in high school and she turned you down.”

“That was years ago. I don’t care about that anymore. I want you, Anya. That’s all I want.”

“But you do care about it, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so angry at her for being with Spike.”

“Spike’s a vampire.”

“So was Angel.”

“And look how great that turned out.” Xander stared at his future bride, trying to guess who was going to win this argument. She always won. Always.

“You’ve spent the past month or so obsessing over Buffy being with Spike. Who cares? I don’t, because I have you. And I hoped you’d feel the same way.” He could hear the hurt in her voice, and he saw the worry in her eyes when she smacked her magazine down onto the table top. “Maybe you don’t like Spike, but you cut her out of your life because of him. It shouldn’t be that important to you. The relationship that should matter is yours with mine. I don’t care if I’m selfish. I don’t care if you’re mad at me for being selfish. It’s what I want, and if you can’t get over Buffy being with Spike, then I can’t go through with marrying you. I don’t want to be the one you settled for, Xander.”

“I’m not settling,” Xander insisted, taking her hands in his. She didn’t pull away. “I love you. I do. And if you want me to try to work things out with Buffy and Spike, then I will. If that’s what it takes to prove to you that…”

“You shouldn’t have to want to do it to prove something to me. She is your friend, and I know that she hasn’t always been my favorite person, but I’d like to think you wouldn’t give up on somebody so easy. Even if it is somebody you used to be madly in love with.” Xander sighed, shaking his head. He smiled a little.

“I was a sixteen year old kid back then. I thought I was madly in love, but I never felt anything close to mad, scary love until I met you. God, Anya, I never felt so sick, terrified, or exceedingly happy than when I was with you.” Anya’s face softened. “You were the craziest woman I ever met, but the crazy made me love you more. Yeah, what Buffy did in high school hurt me, but the idea of you calling off the wedding because of some stupid issue I have…that hurts more. Please, Anya. Just…please, don’t give up on me. I love you more than anything. I love you, you crazy ex-demon.” Anya’s tears welled more before spilling over. She threw herself across the table at him, folding her arms around him.

“That’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever said to me,” she cried. Xander kissed her softly.

“I’m sorry, An. I’ll fix things. I promise. I might not be inviting Spike to any family get-togethers, but I’ll make things better. I will.” Anya nodded.

“Good, because I want a smooth and happy wedding. I don’t want angry stares at the altar.”

“You’ll have a perfect wedding. We will, I mean.” He smiled at her. “Not much longer now, and all this wedding stuff will be behind us.” Anya bristled a little, but he squeezed her hand to reassure her. “Then we can get on with the married stuff. Sound good?” Anya smiled, nodding her head.

“Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

***

“Spike! Give me the towel! I’m serious!” Buffy yelled, as she and Spike held a standoff in the bathroom. Spike stood next to the bathroom door, as naked as Buffy was, and he held the only towel in sight in his hands.

“You’re gonna have to come and get it,” he teased, tongue darting out between his teeth for a second. She glared at him, thought long and hard about throwing the soap at his bleached head, and then she darted out of the tub, tackling him out into the hallway and against the hallway wall. He threw the towel toward the stairs, and Buffy started to run for it, but he caught her by the waist and pulled her back against him, his hand moving down her shoulder and around to capture a breast. His lips pressed against her neck, and she moaned, as his free hand moved between her legs.

“Spike,” she moaned, not even bothering to fight him anymore. “I’m all clean…”

“Yeah,” he murmured with a chuckle, “and you’re still all…wet.”

“Oh God,” she murmured, as he slipped a few fingers inside. “Oh…k…Oh God.” She turned in his arms, and he slipped his fingers out of her, drawing her close. Her arms wrapped around his still damp back, and they stumbled back into the bedroom, door hanging wide open.

“Want me to make it quick?” he asked, tongue sliding out to taste the flesh on her neck.

“Mmm,” she breathed, sliding her leg up and bringing him in. She gasped softly as he buried himself inside of her, and she closed her eyes, head arching back into the mattress.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips against hers, tasting the minty freshness, tongue sliding along her newly brushed teeth. Her breath still carried the coolness that the mint provided.

When she didn’t answer, he started a quick pace, but she shook her head.

“No. Go slow,” she breathed. “Make love to me.” Her eyes glittered with need and with love, and he smiled down at her, stroking her face, brushing the wet hair out of her eyes.

“Alright, luv,” he whispered, kissing her softly. His lips moved down to her neck, softly suckling her there, and just as he began to move slowly within her, the door downstairs opened, and Buffy gasped. “Oh bollocks.”

“Shh. Come on,” she breathed, pushing back on him as he pulled out. “Get dressed.”

“Little hard, pet.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she teased, receiving an eye roll from him in response. She dressed quickly, however, as the baritone voice echoed up from downstairs.

“Anybody home?”

“Uh, yeah! Just a sec, Dad!” Buffy called, clasping her bra on and pulling a shirt over her head. Once she was fully dressed, she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and threw a sympathetic glance Spike’s way. “Make it up to you later?” Spike only nodded, and when she flounced out of the room, he focused on getting rid of the raging erection left after an unsatisfactory encounter. Maybe if he thought about how Hank Summers might kill him if he found out the tryst going on under his roof, it would help it go away.

***

“Wow, look at you,” Hank said, voice drenched with surprise as his daughter came down the stairs, looking a little flustered but just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. Maybe more if it was possible.

“Hey,” she said awkwardly, trying to figure out whether she should hug him or punch him. She settled for a nod in his direction. “Um, Dawn’s out on the beach with her boyfriend.”

“Ok. Well, that’ll give us some time to talk. Didn’t you bring someone?” He glanced up toward the stairs, expecting someone else to come following after his daughter.

“Uh, yeah. He’s um, taking a nap.”

“It’s the morning.”

“Right. Well, he’s…he has a headache. He’ll be down in a little while.”

“Oh. Ok,” Hank said cautiously. “I’ll just take my things up to my room and change. I’ll be down in a few minutes, and then we can talk.”

“Great,” Buffy replied quietly, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She watched as her father disappeared up the stairs with his luggage, before she sat down on the leather sofa, heart racing rapidly. God, what had happened to make him go from a doting father to a barely there figure that was barely more than a sperm donor. What kind of a man stopped being a dad? Better yet, what kind of a man avoided his kids after their mother’s death? Those questions raged within her, making the anger completely overshadow the twinge of happiness she felt at seeing her dad again.

Before the divorce, she’d been somewhat of a Daddy’s girl, after all. But now…she didn’t know what would happen to what little of a relationship they had left. She’d acted as a sister and a parent to Dawn for the last year, and she wasn’t even sure if there was a place left for her dad anymore. After everything he’d done…or rather hadn’t done over the past few years, she didn’t know if she really wanted him in her life anymore after all.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for this long overdue chat. All she had to remind herself was that she had to take baby steps. That’s all she needed to do to work toward the closure she so desperately needed.


Chapter End Notes:
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