Chapter Eight: Revelations
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Tension filled the air between the Slayer and the chipped vamp as they avoided each other’s gaze. Joyce and Nikole chatted, talking as if they’d known each other for years. Spike finally managed to catch Buffy’s eye, causing her to look quickly away. Her cheeks had only just begun to flush when a squeal came from the front door.
“Spike!”
All eyes turned towards the door to see the youngest Summers, who ran and flung herself into the vamp’s arms.
“Hey Nibblet,” he greeted, giving the young thing in his arms an affectionate squeeze.
“Oh, I have so much to tell you. Like today in class, but it’s nothing compared to what happened... to your face?” she all but screeched, everyone having trouble keeping up with the rapidly changing topics of her babble.
“Nothing to worry about, Platelet. Just got into a bit of a tussle on patrol. You are late ‘Bit,” he reminded, nodding his head in Joyce's direction. Dawn turned towards her mother and gave her a sheepish smile.
“Sorry?”
Joyce simply shook her head, not the least bit mad. In comparison to what she was going to have to deal with Buffy, this wasn’t even worth commenting on. Heck, being late was nothing compared to what Buffy had done.
“Why don’t you all sit down, I’ll bring in the roast.” Joyce didn’t wait for any replies before heading back into the kitchen.
“Spike, you have to sit next to me!” Dawn tugged him down from her spot at the head of the table. Nikole sat down next to him, eyeing Dawn. The essence that made her the Key shown brightly around her.
“Who’s she?” she asked, staring suspiciously at Nikole. She had remembered seeing her with Buffy but they’d never introduced her.
“This is Nikole. She’s in town, helping me,” Buffy answered, putting an emphasis on the ‘helping me’ part.
“She’s Spike’s girlfriend?” Dawn questioned just as quickly with a glare.
Buffy gaped, her mouth opening and then closing, not sure how to answer the question; but Spike solved the problem by answering the question himself.
“Something like that, yeah,” Spike told Dawn, turning to share a secretive smile with Nikole, but both noticed the frown on Buffy’s face. Nikole felt the first stirrings of jealousy within Buffy’s aura and played on it by scooting her chair closer to Spike.
“Well, she seems cooler than Buffy,” Dawn grudgingly admitted.
“Thanks Dawn,” Buffy said sarcastically, sitting down across from Nikole, choosing the seat farthest away from Spike. She was still feeling all wiggy about Spike and no way was she sitting across from him. Their almost kiss in the kitchen? So didn’t happen, or at least she tried to tell herself that but the jealousy that coiled in her stomach watching Nikole smile at Spike told her different.
Plus, she had a boyfriend. A nice, dependable, boring boyfriend. No, not boring, just…safe? Spike was evil, and soulless, and dangerous, only… all those were in the not so much variety lately. How could Spike get her so hot just by touching her hand when the thought of what she did with Riley only dampened that feeling and made her feel on the verge of being sick?
Buffy’s temples began to throb, signaling the oncoming headache she knew she was going to have by the end of the night. Spike was messing everything up. She’d seen the way he received her sister when she hugged him. It was pretty hard to continue to tell herself that he was unfeeling and evil when the evidence against it was smacking her right in the face.
Joyce entered at that moment, putting a stop to any more deep thoughts as she set the roast down at the end of the table. “Buffy, move down one, Nikole and I were having an art conversation I’d like to continue,” Joyce instructed as she began to serve the roast.
Buffy glanced around, really not wanting to move but she was in the doghouse with her mom and there would be no arguing. So, she moved down one seat, putting herself directly across from Spike.
“What did you do?” Dawn whispered. She wasn’t blind to her mother’s coolness, or to Buffy’s lack of protest about moving. Whatever it was, it was big for Buffy not to be making a fuss.
“Girls,” Joyce warned, glancing over at their guests.
Both girls mumbled sorry and pouted.
“Nikole, would you like a piece of roast? Or would you rather I warmed you up a cup of blood? I think I still have some in the fridge,” Joyce asked, her voice doing a one-eighty turn from cold to warm.
“She’s a vamp?” Dawn exclaimed, staring at Nikole with wide eyes.
Nikole smothered a chuckle and looked plainly at the Key. “Among many things, yes. I’m also a Wicca.” Nikole stared at Dawn for a moment longer, watching the green light that surrounded her, and then turned to Joyce. “And roast would be lovely Joyce, thank you.”
“Oh…she’s way cooler than you are Buffy,” Dawn murmured, staring at Nikole as if she were a goddess or something worthy of worship, and Nikole smiled back at her.
“And once again, I respond with a big sarcastic thanks.” Buffy frowned and then pouted. She didn’t get why Dawn was so hooked on Nikole so suddenly. Probably was the whole vamp/witch thing. There was something in the way that Nikole was looking at Dawn though that made her uneasy. Like there was something in Dawn that no one but Nikole could see. And maybe it was true. Buffy had never met a witch turned vampire before. She made a note to talk to Nikole later.
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Dishes were cleared away and Dawn had been sent upstairs to do homework after much whining. Spike and Nikole sat next to each other, talking quietly to each other, while Buffy sat in one of the arm chairs, doing her best to ignore Nikole’s giggles. Whatever Spike was telling her had to be amusing. For a second, she wished she’d brought Riley along but the thought was soon squelched as her body protested against it.
Joyce returned from the kitchen, looking weary but determined, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The set of her face let Nikole know she was ready to deal with Buffy, and she stood up.
“Well Joyce, that was a lovely meal. Thanks for having me, but I should get going. I have an appointment with a man about a temporary rental,” she explained, Spike now standing too.
“It was a pleasure to have you over,” Joyce said, rising from the arm chair. “It’s not often I get to meet someone with so much knowledge and history of art, apart from Spike that is. You should really come down to the gallery one evening.”
“That’d be great. I look forward to it.”
“I’ll walk you to wherever,” Spike said, holding out Nikole’s coat for her.
“If you wouldn’t mind Spike, I’d like you to stay,” Joyce intervened.
Spike turned questioning eyes toward her. The need for support shown within Joyce’s eye and his decision was already made.
“Sure mum. If you need me, I’ll stay.” Spike turned back to look at Nikole briefly. “I’ll see you tomorrow pet. Say ‘ello to Clem for me.”
“Will do,” Nikole promised, pecking him on the cheek, and then opened the door, closing it softly behind her.
The silence that enveloped the room was thick, more so as Spike came back and sat down. Buffy was fidgeting in her seat. Joyce sat with a dejected sigh that lashed through Buffy deeper than any angry words could have. Now that she looked at her mother, she could see the little lines of tiredness showing around her eyes.
“Buffy…” her mom began, her voice echoing her tiredness.
“I know I messed up Mom,” Buffy interrupted. “I know that what I did was wrong, that there’s nothing to excuse my actions.”
“Good, I’m glad you know that, but do you really understand what you did?”
Buffy took a deep breath and held it. What had she truly done? She looked up at Spike’s face, the sickly colors of healing flesh branding themselves in her mind. She had done that. She had hit him with no preamble. Out of anger and embarrassment. Out of frustration and fear. She’d hit him because she felt she was better than him, superior, and that only made her less than him. This wasn’t her being a Slayer; this was her being cruel.
She’d also hit him because she had been scared, too afraid to do anything else. He’d almost kissed her, presenting her with the unknown, and she’d reacted like she normally did: violently; but it was wrong. It hadn’t been a life or death situation. It had been Spike trying to kiss her and she had tried to cover up her disappointment.
Disappointment? her mind questioned.
Yes, disappointment. She’d felt those oh so kissable lips hovering above hers and craved to feel them, to taste them, but he had stepped away and she felt rejected. OR so she thought. The events of earlier in the kitchen begged to differ.
She waited for the rush of denial that was sure to come, but it didn’t. Her mind had already accepted what she hadn’t. And her body had never protested in the first place. Oh no, it had been more than willing to go along.
So what had she really done? She had hit him. Plain and simple. She’d done it because she thought she could get away with it, that because it was Spike, it was okay when it really wasn’t. He may be a vamp, but somewhere along the past summer and the last few weeks, he’d wiggled his way into her life, somewhere along the time he’d spent with them, he had changed, slowly. He’d changed from being Spike who had tried to kill them, to chipped Spike, to 'watch after her little sister' Spike, 'call for patrol help' Spike. He had her back; she trusted him.
“I hit Spike,” Buffy finally said aloud, still in slight shock over her last internal revelation.
“But are you sorry?” Joyce asked, watching the play of emotions over Buffy’s face.
The question threw Buffy for another loop. Was she sorry? Though it may have been strange a while ago, she did feel sorry, and not just because she’d gotten in trouble.
“Yes.”
Her simple answer had Spike sitting up straight and staring at her, fixated. He blinked, hoping that what he was seeing and hearing was real, not just a figment of his imagination.
“Spike?” Buffy called quietly.
“Yeah luv?”
“I’m sorry. Sometimes…sometimes being the Slayer fuzzes up the line between when fists are right and when they’re wrong. And I was wrong,” she concluded quietly. It took a lot to say it, but she had to, to be right with herself, and with him.
“I know pet, it’s a hard life. No one’s blaming ya for making a couple mistakes.” He wanted to reach out and hold her, but he held himself back. Buffy might be with all the asking for forgiveness now, but that didn’t necessarily change how she felt about him.
“Now I know you really mean it,” Joyce observed, making the two abruptly turn towards her, startled. “As for your punishment… no allowance for the next month, you are not allowed to bring home your laundry on the weekends until I say so, and you will make no more complaints about Spike tutoring Dawn or her hanging around with him. You will, and I mean it, treat Spike with respect. I know that you’re a Slayer and fighting is part of your everyday routine as much as it kills me, but I did not raise you to take out your anger with your fists. If I ever, ever, find out you hit someone like you did again, believe me, this will seem like nothing compare to what will happen. Do you understand me?” Joyce gaze was steely and Spike could smell the fear wafting off Buffy. He would have felt the same if that cold gaze would have been on him.
“Yes mom,” Buffy said, forcing her Slayer side that wanted to protest down. She deserved this, every little bit.
Joyce slumped back in her seat, deflated. “I’m going to bed. If you’re going to patrol, walk Spike home.” She got up and bent down, wrapping her eldest in a hug. “I love you honey.”
“I love you too,” she mumbled against her mother’s shirt.
“Be careful.” Buffy’s mom finally let her go, pressing a kiss to her forehead and headed up the stairs.
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Silence filled the air as Buffy walked beside Spike. They were enroute to his crypt. The vamp was dead silent and it set Buffy on edge. Usually they would banter back and forth but since her mini confession at home, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet.
“Spike?” she said, and got nothing. “Spike!”
“Huh? What?” Spike shook his head, shaking off his thoughts and turned to look at Buffy.
“Anyone home?”
“Sorry luv, just was thinkin’. Were you saying something?” he asked.
“No, it’s wigging me out with you being all quiet. Usually I can’t get you to shut up,” she complained.
Spike chuckled. “What can I say Slayer? You threw me for a loop. Figured I had you pegged by now but you keep me on my toes.”
“Well I think that’s a compliment coming from Mr. Impetuous himself.”
Spike let out a laugh at that. A genuine laugh that Buffy had never heard before, but she liked it. Its rich baritone reverberated within her and crawled against her skin in a way that was almost sensuous.
Each of them were lost in their own little world until they arrived at his door.
“Well, this is my stop pet. About tonight…”
“I…I…” Buffy struggled to find something to say.
“All I have to say is thanks,” he said before leaning forward and pressing the lightest kiss to her cheek.
“You wouldn’t be macking on my boyfriend, would you Slayer?”
They both jumped and turned to see Nikole only a few yards away. Buffy felt her cheeks burn and stepped away from Spike, putting lots of space between them.
“N-N-No, no, no. I was just leaving,” she replied, feeling a burning ball on anger within her. Why did she have to show up?
“Nice timing pet,” Spike commented. The disappointment wasn’t evident in his face but Buffy could see it in his eyes.
“I’ll just leave you two. Night,” she said, finding herself a bit bitter. Her spine was straight and her fists were clenched by her side as she turned and walked away.
“Night Slayer,” Spike called after her.
It wasn’t till she was half way home that Buffy realized what had spurred the anger.
She was jealous.