22: Back into the Lion’s Den
She tried not to be nervous on the way back to his house. Nothing had been said as yet about her long absence, or the many excuses she had made not to see him. He hadn’t asked what had happened to drive her away, nor why she had changed her mind. Trying to head off the inevitable questions, she decided to provide the explanation she had devised without being asked.
“The other night. Back at my apartment. I got scared.” She had to remember that Spike had no idea just why she had refused to see him for six weeks. He didn’t know the horrible things others had accused him of, nor the way that she had manipulated him to get what her boss required. He was still just Spike. The same man she had been dating for weeks.
That much at least was real – she was still attracted to him, although now the emotion was infected with fear and self-loathing. She just wasn’t sure yet which emotion should be stronger. If what Giles accused him of was true, she had every reason to be afraid of the man who was calmly driving her over to his house. But if the accusations were false, then she was the one who was guilty of brutally abusing his trust in her.
“Not of you,” she amended. She didn’t want him to think she had any reason to be afraid of him, even though she kinda was, and not just for the obvious reasons. “But of how I lose control around you. I…I wasn’t completely sure that I wanted you to leave, that night, but I don’t think I’m ready for …a more physical relationship. Not yet.” The lie had the added benefit of being true.
Spike’s instant response surprised her. “Gods, I’m a complete bugger.” More than a tinge of guilt passed through Buffy as she saw how quickly he was ready to take the blame on himself. “I sent you to see Tara ‘cause I know you have issues, then I try to pressure you into sleeping with me. Can you forgive me? I promise, I won’t try anything else until you tell me you’re ready. You’ll have to come to me. I swear it.”
“It’s all right. Can we just not talk about it please? Forget it ever happened?”
“Whatever you want, kitten.”
Back at the house, Buffy wandered into his kitchen, surprised not to find Andrew or Jonathan slaving behind a hot stove. Spike laughed. “It’s just us two tonight. I’m doing the cooking.”
Buffy blanched. They were alone in the house together? Buffy was suddenly very glad of the transceiver in her purse. Instead of simply recording what she saw, this time it was set to transmit to a van parked out on the street. If there was trouble, someone would be there almost instantly. He must have seen her face and misread her apprehension. “Come on, I’m not that bad of a cook. We both survived your cooking, I imagine that we’ll manage to survive mine.”
Buffy forced herself to smile as if that had been the reason behind her momentary terror. “I appreciate that you want to return the favor,” Buffy said, “but are you really going to cook yourself? Isn’t Jonathan or Andrew going to do it?”
Spike smiled. “It’s all me. I can do a mean barbeque. So long as it’s nothing too fancy.” He came out onto the patio carrying a plate of steaks. “You just make yourself comfortable and watch the master at work.”
Taking a seat with a view of the waterfall, Buffy tried not to laugh at the flames that came up when Spike put the steaks on the grill. Obviously, despite his claims, he was not an expert when it came to grilling. Satisfied that the flames had lowered to an acceptable level, he took his drink and settled in next to Buffy to watch the play of light over the water. Perhaps he should have invited her over for lunch again – it was just a little too cool for a swim to be really comfortable. No matter. She was here. That was the important part. After six long weeks without her, she was finally here. The first three weeks she had been gone had been torture, and the second three weeks had been worse. Desperate to get his mind off her in case she never came back to him, he had even agreed to a few dates with that horrible Harmony. The sex had been all right, but talking to the girl herself was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. There was no way he could envision himself spending any real time with a girl like that. So when Buffy had finally relented and called him, he hadn’t wanted to give her the time to change her mind. He had hastily arranged for them to be alone in the house tonight, and all that was important was one another’s company.
It was surprisingly comfortable sitting outside chatting, and for once he felt like he could completely relax. Nothing and no one was going to bother them tonight. Unless he burned the steaks and they had to order a pizza, he thought as he once again smelled smoke.
Turning the meat he wondered what it would be like to really have Buffy for his own. To have this kind of companionship every evening would be amazing. Even when he had been married to Dru, life had never been like this. Dru had always wanted to be out doing things, and when she was at home, she often kept the house full of people. They rarely enjoyed quiet times like this.
Although the outside of the steak was burnt and the inside underdone, Buffy complimented it extravagantly. Spike hadn’t complained about her home-cooked meal, so she thought it only fair to return the favor. At least the dessert was good, although Spike admitted that Andrew had suggested the strawberry sponge cake because all it required was assembly. There was absolutely no cooking involved, and hence no opportunity for disaster.
After the dishes were stacked in the kitchen for Andrew to deal with the next morning, it was just about time for Buffy to leave. So far she had made no actual progress towards her goal. She picked up her bag as if getting ready to leave.
As if it were an afterthought, Buffy asked casually, “Before I go, will you show me the painting you started?”
“What?”
“Last time I was here. You started painting my picture by the waterfall. I’d like to see it.” If she was right, the painting would be in the locked storeroom. In order to show it to her, he’d have to open the door.
Spike was both flattered and afraid. He hardly ever allowed anyone to view his work – especially not in an unfinished stage. It was one of the reasons why he kept his studio so private, choosing very carefully those works he would allow the outside world to see. But he was proud of his painting of Buffy. And if he didn’t agree to show it to her, she would probably leave right now. He knew it was foolish, but he wanted her to stay as long as he could convince her to.
“All right.” He took her hand to lead her upstairs, trembling only slightly when they passed by his bedroom on the way to the studio. “But only if you promise to say suitably nice things – I don’t usually let others see my work.”
Buffy nodded. Giles would be so happy, and she would be able to be done with this duplicity once and for all. The longer she was in Spike’s presence, the more certain she became that there was a reasonable explanation for the fingerprints. Giles himself admitted they were just circumstantial evidence. She was doubly certain that she would find absolutely nothing suspicious in his workshop. After being forced to stay away from him for so long, she realized that she had missed him. She was definitely beginning to think that in spite of their rocky start, the two of them might be able to enjoy a more permanent relationship. She wondered if one day she might even admit that she had been investigating him when they had first met. She imagined that he would laugh and say it was nothing.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
WOW. Thanks for all the terrific reviews. I always make sure to read (and answer) before posting the next chapter, because often you guys have ideas, questions or comments about something that I haven't thought of. So you are helping to make this a better story. Thank you.