[Reviews - 147]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1798 times

- Text Size +




Once the breakfast dishes were cleared away, Dawn left for a full day of wrangling costumes and sets for the evening’s dance performance. Willow and Giselle had long ago disappeared on an undisclosed errand. Spike suspected it was more of a date. Both he and Buffy were intrigued by the possibilities suggested by a romantic relationship between the powerful witch and the exotic demon, but, since neither Willow nor Giselle was good at keeping her feelings to herself, Buffy and Spike’s curiosity was sure be satisfied before long. In the meantime, the little family had the unusual luxury of several hours to kill with no commitments.

"Do you know what I need?' Buffy asked as she helped Spike smooth the spread over their bed.

Looking up from the pillow he was fluffing, eyes flinty, Spike kept his voice low as he replied, "God, please tell me it's not a fight or a fuck, because I'm truly knackered, even with the nap."

Buffy threw her pillow at his head, laughing. "No! For once I think I've had enough of both."

"Really, now! I don't suppose you'd be willing to put that in writing?” Spike asked as he retaliated with a blow to Buffy's butt. “I don't think I've ever heard you say that before."

"No, I'm not putting it in writing. Who would you show it to anyway?"

Spike pouted as he retrieved his pillow, placing it near the headboard. "No one...just myself, you know...for my own sense of achievement."

Buffy didn’t reply, but her strange expression prompted Spike. “What? You find it odd that I’m still so bleedin’ insecure that I need proof you’ve actually stayed satisfied for over an hour?”

Buffy snapped out of her brief reverie. “N-n-n-no, no…it’s not that! I was just imagining what the Boy Scout merit badge for sexual prowess would look like. I mean…if there was one.”

“Very funny, luv,” Spike said, giving her a fake smile. “But, thanks for the memory. Back in the day, Boy Scouts were very good eating, especially in the 60’s. It was damn difficult to find anyone to munch who wasn’t full of nasty drugs. But I could always count on the Boy Scouts. Very tender as a rule.”

Buffy grimaced. “Okay, that’s waaaay more than enough tripping down memory lane. Aren’t you even interested in what I need?”

“Always,” he purred, pulling her into his lap. “What is it, then? What does the Slayer-who-has-everything require to make her truly happy?” Wrapping his arms around her, Spike nuzzled Buffy’s neck as he waited for her reply.

Buffy pulled back just enough to look Spike in the eye. “I’m already truly happy,” she said. “But I think I could use a trip to a spa.”

Spike’s face fell. “What? You mean without us?” He’d blurted his true feelings without really thinking it through, then quickly realized his selfish desire to keep Buffy by his side was not necessarily fair to her. “She is a tireless warrior, after all,” he thought. “No question she deserves a bit of pampering”.

Rushing to correct his error, Spike added brightly, “But… I mean…I suppose the Widge and I could find some fun on our own--we always do.” Despite the quick recovery, there was no denying his disappointment. Who am I trying to kid? I don’t want her going off without us. Aware he was failing miserably at the whole selflessness thing, Spike still couldn’t help appending a plea. “But you don’t really mean to leave us?”

Buffy kissed him gently on the lips. “No,” she sighed. “Much as I’d love a facial, massage and herbal wrap, I couldn’t bring myself to go,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “So can we have a spa day right here, the three of us?”

Spike sputtered a bit. “If a spa day is what you want, my sweet, then a spa day you shall have,” he said, employing his rarely used upper crust accent. “That is,” he said, reverting to his adopted working class inflection, “if you don’t mind telling me what exactly a spa day might be?”

*****

Three-quarters of an hour later, Buffy used the kitchen door to let herself into the house. She was carrying several bags from the local drug store where she’d gone to buy supplies – clay mask, nail polish, massage oil – and at least a dozen other necessities. Placing her acquisitions on the kitchen counter, Buffy could hear Joy giggling from the guest bathroom all the way down the hall. Following the happy sound, Buffy soon discovered what was inspiring all the laughter.

Joy was wrapped in a thick towel, fresh from the bath, and seated on a tall kitchen stool in front of the bathroom vanity. Behind her, Spike stood intently weaving strands of Joy’s long brown hair into French braids. There was no sound now, but only because Joy had her lips pressed tightly together to stop herself from laughing. Lacking a reflection, her father’s presence was indicated in the bathroom mirror only by what appeared to be floating locks of hair magically twisting themselves into flat, basket weave braids extending from Joy’s temples to the nape of her neck. As Buffy watched, Joy burst out into laughter again.

“Shhh, silly girl, and stop wiggling,” Spike hissed at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’m going to have to start all over if you can’t stay still. It’s been a while since I’ve done this. If you don’t want to end up all crooked, you’re going to have to stop bouncing about!”

Suppressing her own impulse to laugh out loud, Buffy took in the scene with a mix of emotions. She was mostly charmed to watch her handsome, formerly evil vampire mate meticulously arranging their daughter's hair - a picture completely inconsistent with the wildly unconventional man to whom she was bonded for life. But she also felt a pang of jealousy and remorse as she remembered the first time Spike braided her hair.

She was laying naked in the four-poster, deep in the bowels of Spike's crypt, he'd used his fingers to comb through the tangles until her hair was smooth enough to coax into a matched set of golden plaits. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he'd become proficient at this unusual skill after nearly a hundred years of practice braiding his vampire lover’s raven locks.

It was decades in the past, but Buffy would never forget the stab of pain she’d felt when she realized Spike had loved Drusilla for more years than she had any hope of living. That evening wasn’t the first or last time Buffy stormed out, away from Spike’s bed, still wet between her legs with their mingled love juices. It was one of many times she left behind the echo of one vile lie or another about how much he disgusted her. Back then, Buffy preferred to retreat into the safety of denial rather than admit he’d come to mean so much to her. Better to leave the cold comfort of his bed - punishing herself as much it punished him - than face the truth.

The unpleasant memory sent a cold shudder through Buffy’s body. Spike turned to look at her, curious about the change of rhythm in her pulse, still holding the ends of Joy’s now finished braids with his fingers. “What’s up, luv?” he asked. “You’re all pensive. Did you find all your potions and paints?”

Buffy shook off the unwelcome feelings and focused instead on her beautiful demon lover-turned hair stylist and her adorable daughter. “Yeah, I got it all!” she managed to say, though her mouth was dry.

“Mommy!” Joy squealed. “Do you like our surprise?”

“I love it,” she said, happy to let Joy’s grin banish the dark shadows of the past. “You look just like a princess!”

“It was Papa’s idea,” Joy added. “We wanted to surprise you so I took a really fast bath.”

“Yes, Widget,” Spike said, fastening a tiny gold barrette to keep the braids from coming undone. “And now you’re going to jump into your robe and get ready to watch your video.”

As soon as Spike helped Joy off the stool she shot down the hall to her room. He turned to Buffy and took her into his arms. “There was a cloud here a moment ago,” he said, searching her face. “But I think it’s gone now. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just thinking about the bad old days,” she admitted, scanning his features for some reassurance he still loved her, as though he too had remembered all the lying and betrayal. “You made it all better, though, like always.” Buffy let Spike wrap her in his embrace, loving the sensation of his lean, muscled body pressing against her. After a moment she pulled back, tilting her head to look up at his face. “Which video is she going to watch?”

“One of her favorites,” Spike said, trying his best to avoid answering the question.

Buffy wasn’t having it. “Hold on Big Bad,” she said, one hand on Spike’s chest. “Which video is it?”

Spike sighed deeply and dropped his hands to his sides as he faced her. “It’s the one you think it is, The Brave Little Toaster,” he said, with a pleading look. “She loves it. What’s the harm?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Buffy answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s already watched it 500 times. And it’s so weird. I just don’t know…”

Spike put his hands on Buffy’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “No, luv, you don’t know. But I do. There’s nothing wrong with the video and there’s nothing wrong with letting her watch it. Her real life is way weirder than anything Disney ever made, right? Let’s see, she’s got a Slayer mother, vampire father, demon nanny, mystical key for an aunt, and a powerful witch for her ungodly mother. I think the Widget can handle a cartoon about animated household appliances. Beside, it’s at least 90 minutes long. So if you’ll just let us go ahead with the plan I can give you a really long, lovely massage. And there is absolutely no chance she’ll interrupt us when she’s watching that video. She won’t even go have a pee until it’s over.”

Spike’s argument melted her resistance. When Joy reappeared in her bathrobe, Buffy gave Spike a quick peck on the check and said she’d be waiting in the bedroom.

“Enjoy your video, Joy-Joy,” Buffy called as she skipped down the hall to the room she shared with Spike, the bag of spa supplies swinging by her side.

Tbc….

A/N: I apologize for taking so long to update. My life is in turmoil. Fortunately it’s mostly good stuff. But there is the little matter of the operation I have to have to remove a benign cyst from my salivary gland. Who knew you get a cyst in your salivary gland? Not me. But the good stuff outweighs the bad. I’ve quit my job to pursue teaching Pilates more-or-less fulltime. I’ve secured an apprenticeship with an amazing teacher. My son is graduating from high school, he’s been accepted at his first choice college, and he got a scholarship on the strength of his writing portfolio! I plan to get some writing done while I recover from the surgery in late May, so it shouldn’t be such a long drought before the next update.

Satindoll





You must login (register) to review.